


A Prince in the North

by Peregrine_Prince



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, House Greyjoy, House Stark, Single POV, Stark-Greyjoy Conflict, War of the Five Kings, Winterfell, the north - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2020-09-19 09:39:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 28,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20329036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peregrine_Prince/pseuds/Peregrine_Prince
Summary: An alternate Universe where Bran, Rickon and Ser Rodrik lead the Northern Lords against the Ironborn.Following the arrest of Lord Eddard Stark, his son Robb Stark is forced to respond to the threat to his family leaving behind an inexperienced Bran as Lord of Winterfell. In the ways of war Balon Greyjoy declares himself Lord Reaper of Pyke and King of the Isles and the North launching an offensive to stake his claim. Bran and the remaining lords and heirs use whatever forces are left to hold the North as their King defends their independence.





	1. Chapter 1

# Preface

This is an ASOIAF Fanfic; it will focus on Brandon Stark (Son of Eddard) on the time that he was left at Winterfell. Specifically, an extended struggle with the Ironborn forces, as Balon Greyjoy attempted to take the North by conquest. To avoid discrepancies, this chapter holds a catalogue of all the Northern Houses and their Military strengths after Robb Stark took the main army South as well as the Ironborn forces.  
Robb will feature only minimally as this Fic will focus on Bran and Rickon, as well as their allies.  
All questions and comments are welcome  


Northern Houses: 25,000  
House Stark (4000In, 1000Cal)  
House Bolton (3000In, 700Cal)  
House Manderly (2200In, 1200Cal)  
House Umber (600In, 300Cal)  
House Karstark (800In, 300Cal)  
House Glover (600In, 100Cal)  
House Mormont (400In, 70Cal)  
House Ryswell (800In, 150Cal)  
House Dustin (700In, 150Cal)  
House Flint [Of Flint’s Finger] (200In, 50Cal)  
House Flint [Of Widow’s Watch] (700In, 100Cal)  
House Hornwood (400In, 50Cal)  
House Reed [and its bannermen] (2000In, 200Cal)  
House Cerwyn (500In, 100Cal)  
House Woolfield (400In, 150Cal)  
House Locke (500In, 100Cal)  
The Mountain Clans (1500In, 600Cal)  
The Skagosi Tribes (400In, 100Cal)

The Wildling Factions- 50000  
The Free Folk-30000  
The Thenns-12000  
The Hornfoots-4000  
The Night-Runners-2000  
The Men of the Frozen Shore-800

The Ice-River Clans-1000

The Ironborn Strength in The North  
Infantry-15000  
Calvary-3000  
Ships-80 Ships of the Iron Fleet  
250 Long ships of the Ironborn Houses


	2. Chapter 2

Bran woke up at the dawn as golden rays shone down on his bed. For a moment he tried to get out of bed before it all came back to him. The accident, the fall, all of it. His useless legs laying there. Robb in the South fighting to get Father back; the girls prisoners of the Lannisters and Jon, for some reason Jon felt the closest as far away as he was; Beyond the Wall at least he was North of the Neck, no matter how far north. He used the bars Mikken had hammered for him to pull himself up and felt a sudden pain like cold needles pinching his thigh. His sharp cry immediately brought Hayhead into his room. “Are you all right there Milord?”  
Bran grimaced and tried to reply back “ Maester Luwin, please” He was older than this; almost a man grown not a boy like Rickon to scream for help at any discomfort. The Maester arrived with a satchel of potions.  
“Apologies Bran, I was just wor-“  
“It’s alright Maester, My legs are hurting.”  
Maester Luwin looked positively stumped “Hu- Hurting, are you sure?  
”Quite” He smashed a fist on his useless thigh and the pain flared up more than before. His face scrunched up before he remembered that he was almost a man grown and he straightened up.  
Maester Luwin busied himself with an especially sharp looking piece of steel and begun to poke around his legs. “Do you know what's happening to my legs”  
“Indeed, it appears you may not be a cripple after all Bran”. He hadn’t wanted to believe it; but it was true. Maester Luwin never lied. He wouldn’t be a cripple he’d walk, run, even climb and ride a horse without straps again.  
Maester Luwin's frown cut short his reveries as the Maester cleared his throat and spoke clearly and slowly. “Bran, I am as happy for you as I can be..” He begun as he frowned most unhappily; “..But I want your word that you will not go climbing or walking without my permission”  
“I can’t walk, or move them, it just hurts all over” “Alright then, I'll give you something for the pain, but should your legs return to you must not hesitate to let me know” he said softening the deep furrows on his face. “I will, I swear it.” He answered as solemnly as he could. The Maester looked taken aback, then he nodded curtly and shuffled away.

Hodor came to take him away but the moment he was lifted from the bed, the pains sharply returned; He stifled a gasp and allowed Hodor to continue taking him to the Maester's turret for his lessons. He rode his horse within the yard for about an hour and half and practiced at the bow. During the evening meal he asked if new roads could be built down White Harbor way. Maester Luwin chewed thoughtfully and conceded it could be done and Ser Rodrik smiled and said he’d make a fine lord. But Bran knew that was a lie, his brother Robb would be Lord when Father died. Thinking about Father being held by the Lannisters made him sad and he summoned Hodor to take him away. Rickon followed after even though no one told him to leave. The boy would lash out at anyone who came close or fall despondent and nothing would cheer him up. Bran desperately wanted to be helpful to his brother, and lead like Robb but he was just a child not a man gro- “No!” he yelled at himself without meaning to. He was the Lord of Winterfell and not a baby. He knew what would cheer Rickon, he’d take the boy to the godswood and they’d play with their wolves and maybe, just maybe Ser Rodrik would allow them to both ride their horses. Rickon stomped into his room on his own with nary a word and Hodor dumped him on his bed before trudging away with a deep “Hodor”.

Before long he fell asleep and he could feel the wings of a bird beating at his head. _It wanted him to go north, somehow he knew but he was a Stark so he howled and tried to say he was Lord of Winterfell but the bird beat its wings faster till Bran swiped at it with his paw and the bird- no, crow he could see it clearly, looked at him with two black eyes and a big red angry one and flew North on its own. “I’m sorry” ,he wanted to say, “but Robb asked me to watch over Winterfell” but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a mournful howl. _

_ _  
Bran burst from his sleep again. It was morning already and Summer was still howling, his throat was quite sore. He got up and drained the flagon directly into his mouth when Hodor lumbered in smiling, took one look at him and ran out hollering, ”Hodor, Hodor, HODOR!!” Ser Rodrik came in with Rickon in tow and went pale “Seven save us” he gasped. Derik the guard dropped his spear in the same beat. Bran looked at his bed and behind him but saw nothing, then he remembered he must have dropped the cup when he was drinking, he reached down to pick it up; then he stopped. He was standing._ _


	3. Chapter 3

Bran rode into the Great Hall atop Dancer, the horse trained for a cripple. A cripple that could walk. A wolf that could fly. A feast in a Crypt. He shook his head remembering the strange dreams and the green-eyed boy who swore they would meet again, he tried to smile at all the lords as he passed them by. Almost none of them had been among the men that sniggered and guffawed at him when Robb called the banners, it gave him great satisfaction to nod at Cley Cerwyn as he passed. A Lord that was a Prince. When he reached the dais, Hodor helped him down and he strode to the table. Little and Big Walder were on the table as well as Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin chatted away. 

From the moment they arrived Bran and Rickon had taken an instant dislike to the two Freys especially when Ser Rodrik had given them Jon’s room. Rickon had grown to like the Freys, but Bran still felt wary. After the courtesies, the servers begun threading through the tables presenting dishes and courses. Bran got first pick as the Stark in Winterfell. Rickon liked more than a few dishes and begun to eat so voraciously for someone his size Bran wondered if he might end up like Lord Manderly who was trying his hardest to cheer up wan Lady Hornwood, though without much success it seemed. The door to the Great Hall burst open and the two faces that emerged from the gloom almost made Bran's heart stop. Over the din Bran heard them announce the girl and the boy. 

Meera and Jojen Reed.

The looked exactly as they had in the dream but 'Jojen' seemed as though his eyes were paler than the deep searching green they had been. Rickon nudged him and he realized they had offered their Oaths of fealty to him. He scrambled for what to say then he grunted and spoke; “ You may make your pledges, my Lords” He recalled Robb had once said something like that and hoped it was right.

”To Winterfell we pledge the faith of Greywater,” they said together.

“Hearth and heart and harvest we yield up to you, my lord. Our swords and spears and arrows are yours to command. Grant mercy to our weak, help to our helpless, and justice to all, and we shall never fail you.” “I swear it by earth and water,” said the boy in green. “I swear it by bronze and iron,” his sister said. “We swear it by ice and fire,” they finished together.

Bran blinked. That was new. He decided to try an old one Maester Luwin had made him memorize.

“As the Stark in Winterfell and Prince in the North from the Neck to the Wall, I swear I shall never fail you nor your folk. I will watch over you and yours, I will keep you safe, sound and strong, There will never lack a seat at my table for your folk or refuge in Winterfell when the cold winds blow and the long nights hold. Be faithful and true and I swear this to you by the Weirwood in Winterfell. Arise men of the North, may your harvests yield bountifully and may the Old Gods watch over your kin.” To his side Maester Luwin was trying hard to stifle laughter since the first lines were for the King in the North and Bran had completely made up the last few lines.

A few of the Northern Lords seemed to sense something was wrong with his oath and sniggers started till Mors Umber leapt unto the Bench “To THE YOUNG WOLF! THE KING IN THE NORTH!!” Bran heaved a sigh of relief as the hall descended into clamorous yells. He waved at one of Lord Manderly's singers and he burst into singing ‘The Iron Lances’. He danced with Beth and some other ladies and felt his cheeks flush when Osha winked at him from the sides of the hall. Meera accepted to dance with him but it seemed she stalked more than she spun. Bran thought of how Arya would have been so pleased to be allowed to train with Meera, before he remembered that both the girls were prisoners of the Lannisters.

His head was pounding when he left the Great Hall late into the night. He remembered his father once saying he had to be kind to his men and he ordered all the remaining boar and a large cut of elk to be sent to the guards and when he reached his room he found he was not alone. Summer lay in the room near the fireplace as well as Shaggydog, Bran stumbled to the door and ordered leftover meats to be brought to the direwolves. He removed his heavy leather jerkin and cloak and fell asleep still in his breeches.

_As he slept, the Crow watched him from afar mournful but seething._


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning he was in the Great Hall as the few men spry enough from the Harvest Feast stumbled into the Hall. He sent a servant off to Mikken to prepare a gift for the Reeds and ate quietly. By noon the Cerwyns came to give their farewells and dropped a fine fur coat as well as a feeding trough for Dancer; that was kind of Cley. Bran sent them off with a few books and a bronze-chased skinning knife. He gave the Umbers barrels of ale and fine wine and promised to speak over the Wildling attacks and raids. He sent Lady Hornwood off with 30 horses and a promise to protect her lands. Lord Manderly outdid him with a splendid model of the new ships he had begun making as well as a brace of Silver Brooches and a dagger with a carved wolf’s-head hilt. He had thought to present Meera with her gift but she announced that they would be staying in Winterfell for a little while. So he gave her a new greathelm, smaller and much cleaner. When all the guest gifts were piled in his room he had more daggers and cloaks than he knew what to do with. Then Jojen Reed came.  
“Good morning, Prince Stark” His solemn voice going ahead of him. Bran straightened up and replied in kind.  
“Good morning, Jojen” “If it please you, when did you start walking?”   
Bran thought of a clever jape but the Reed boy looked too serious for such flippancy. Bran lay back and recounted his tale;  
“It was about two days before Father died” Bran took a breath and tried to recount his tale as best he could.  
“Go on” Jojen urged,   
“Sorry, I was just thinking in bed when I tried to sit up and immediately the pains started like a quick stab. Then I slept off again but they got really painful that morning and I called Maester Luwin and he bound my waist then...”  
He trailed off as he struggled to remember that day. “What I do remember is that I slept off and I had a stupid dream about a crow then when I woke up; I could walk. The aches and pains are still there but after a month Maester Luwin said I could ride again and then I dreamt again, but of you and your sister just the day before you arrived. Now my back still hurts a little but not much.”   
“Bran, you didn’t have a stupid dream. You had a green dream. It means you can see the present and occasionally the future.”   
“The future? Can I see what will happen in the war?”  
“Yes. And much more if you go North”   
“I can't go North! Robb asked me to be the Lord of Winterfell.”   
“If you do not go this power will be taken away. Remember you can see the future. If you use your powers well you could save the North and be the most powerful man ever! I know a way to get you Nor-“ Bran raised a hand and sighed,   
“I’m sorry Jojen but my family needs me and I have to protect Rickon and Winterfell. I can’t ever leave the pack, no matter what.”   
“I saw a dream you know,” Jojen’s voice dropped low in the way only the Crannogman’s voice could,  
“The Sea came to Winterfell and swept you all off your feet because you didn’t turn around to warn them quickly.”   
Bran set his face and in the cold Stark tone of Father and Robb replied,  
“The pack survives together, the pack dies together.”

Jojen and Meera were fun, when they weren’t talking about dreams and visions. When the Freys played with Rickon Maester Luwin had forbidden him from joining in because of his back. Little Walder had laughed and claimed Bran was still 'Crippled on the inside'. Bran had been so mad he marched straight up to Ser Rodrik and asked to resume his training. Maester Luwin had agreed on the condition he would watch Bran’s lessons and Bran had woken soaking wet and miserable wishing he’d kept his mouth shut more often than not. Still, he was sure he’d soon be good enough to knock all the Freys he wanted into the dirt. Now Meera was listening to him telling how they had cut Rickon's hair when their mother had left. “At first, since someone tried to attack me and my mother, Ser Rodrik insisted that we be allowed to keep our wolves close but Rickon was wild, tense and-“   
“And his wolf acted like he did, all wild and angry?” Jojen asked,   
“Aye!” Bran laughed.  
“Aye? You sound like Mors Umber not a proper southerner” Meera chuckled.   
Bran was pleased they liked the tale but his cheeks were burning red and hot. “Regardless, Osha ,the wildling, she asked Maester Luwin for a sleeping draught and we poured it in Rickon's porridge. Then at night, Me and Osha went to his bedroom and Osha snipped off all his hair and one of the maids helped us clear his bedding and Rickon didn’t notice until supper!”   
The Reeds laughed in that strange soft way that they did and Meera asked “What did he say?”   
“Nothing, in a sort of way” Bran replied. “He just screamed and raged for almost an hour and the next time I entered the godswood he tried to set Shaggy on me but Summer protected me. He was so disappointed, he tried to help Shaggydog but a snarl from Summer frightened him so badly he went bounding, straight back to me! I wanted to laugh, but I shooed the wolves away and he didn’t let go of my legs until we got out of the godswood!” A howl of laughter followed his words and he twisted to see all the remaining children of the castle including Big Walder laughing at the tale. Seeing the Frey made him go red with shame. With this many ears it was only a matter of time before the tale would reach the Wintertown itself.  
Big Walder spoke up “When our grandfather Lord Walder said we’d foster in Winterfell. Little Walder laughed and said he hoped you had good jousters. Said the frog eating lot that called themselves Crannogmen would be on the receiving end of a good knightly learning. Then..” his voice trailed off uncertainly.   
“Then he tried to ambush me” Meera finished.   
Bran turned back to her so fast his back hurt and to his surprise, Jojen looked just as enraged. It was the first time Jojen wasn’t as stoic and calm, yet even if his face betrayed his emotions; his voice was just as still as ever,  
“And?”   
Meera cleared her throat and smiled scornfully, “And I told him that a dismounted Knight was about as effective as a blunt spear. He tried to bull-rush me when I said that, with a tourney sword no less. I had my dagger and net but my trident was away or I would have whapped him on the head and I didn’t want to anger Prince Bran by attacking his guests so I used the net to trap his sword hand and the hilt and I spanked him hard with the blunt sword.”   
Big Walder sniggered “No wonder he slept upside down for a few nights!”   
Most of the younger boys like Tomtoo and Harks laughed at Little Walder's disgrace. That joy was cut short when a guard burst into the clearing to summon Bran to the Great Hall. Bran left the rest behind and strode as fast as Maester Luwin would hopefully permit. When he reached there, no supplicants awaited him only Ser Rodrik tapping his foot impatiently.   
“Ser Rodrik?” he called.   
“Bran. I’m afraid thirty horses weren’t enough this time”


	5. Chapter 5

Ser Rodrik rode out to some of the nearer holdfasts to summon men and free Lady Hornwood. Bran was reading in the Maester's turret when Maester Luwin entered.  
“Maester Luwin? When Ser Rodrik captures and frees Lady Hornwood, what will happen to the Bolton?”  
“You need not concern yourself with such matters. Ser Rodrik and I will handle it.” He replied curtly.  
“I’m the Lord of Winterfell! I should be concerned. Father would be ashamed enough that I let someone else dispense justice. But that I didn’t even try to protect my bannermen he’d say I’m no true Stark.”  
The Maester’s face twisted uncomfortably. One thing Bran learnt, was that the mention of his Father worked wonders among the nobles and northmen alike. And so it did.  
“Bran, the Lord of Winterfell is your brother. He has to pass judgement on his bannermen.”  
“It says in this book that the Lord of Winterfell passes judgement on the Bannermen even when he isn’t King! Couldn’t we ask Robb to grant me leave to pass judgement to his bannermen? I want to help. I want to do more than make toasts and press seals. I sh-“  
“Keep your voice down! I will send King Robb a letter asking him to grant you limited powers over all the North, but you will learn to control yourself and listen! Am I clear?”  
“Yes, Maester Luwin. I understand.” Bran answered as coldly as he could.  
“Now, go change into suitable garments, fetch your brother and we will answer today’s supplicants.”  
In half an hour, Bran and Rickon were sitting in stiff jerkins listening to older men dole out requests, complaints and the occasional harvest report. Meera and Jojen stood to the sides listening and whispering intently. Ser Rodrik arrived and strode easily to the front of the Great Hall.   
“I have gathered up to eight hundred men and I can wait no longer. I will leave at once with seven hundred and return with the vermin as soon as I can.”  
“Good speed Ser Rodrik. May the Old Gods watch over you.” Bran intoned.  
“Not to worry. I’ll be careful, prince.” Then he turned around and strode out of the hall briskly. The soldiers had formed up already and through the doors of the Great Hall, Bran watched as House Stark went forth to dispense justice.

He went off to see Old Nan who was ill in her chambers. She was sleeping when he arrived, but he stayed by her bedside as he’d seen his father do so many times when one of his sisters were ill.   
“Little lord” Old Nan rasped.  
“Hallo Nan, are you feeling better today?” Bran asked  
“F- fine. Water” Bran served her the water himself. He knew what would happen eventually, but he had lost so many faces that he feared he was getting used to losing people.  
“Did you come for a sweet story Bran?”   
“No Nan, I think you should rest” He would not bother her more.   
“Alright then. But only a short one. I- I need to rest.” She coughed violently, each cough drier than the one before. Bran wondered if she heard him and just decided to tell a story.  
“ It was in the time of the Old Kings of Winter. Farlon Stark was the only son of an only son, much like your father Rickard. It so happened that when this Royce Bolton came down on Winterfell, Farlon led his host to fight the Bolton host, but this was long before the Kingsroad. Back when the old lumber trail still ran from Winterfell to all the houses of the East. A narrow trail. Hardly fit for armies. And so it was that the Stark King went forth with only half his host. The Boltons scattered his hosts and flayed him living. His head returned to the Dreadfort to rot for a hundred summers. But Royce Bolton did not want to defeat House Stark. He wanted to destroy it.

He marched on Winterfell and used one of the crypt entrances to storm and burn the castle. But Winterfell did not forget its lord. As the Boltons entered through one tunnel the Stark princes left by another. Soon enough, the Red King noticed the boys were gone. He searched all over for them. He came close to seizing them but a crofter lied about their location. He paid for that lie with the skin off his bones and his head.

The boys escaped and joined loyal vassals who kept them safe. Till the Starks rose again in Winter and laid waste to those who tried to do so to them. And even after this, so shaken that a house so old could be so easily swept away, the younger brother married and begat so many children that for the coming years, many in the Wintertown and Barrowton could claim Stark blood in their veins. But the Starks have since learnt that a house with enemies and too few heirs will one day fade away. No matter how old. No matter how safe.”

Old Nan yawned and tossed on her side. Bran blinked and walked away. Not only had Old Nan mistaken him for another Brandon, she had spoken of the crypts and warned him that an heirless house would fade away. And most troubling of all, she told him of a time when House Bolton still warred with House Stark, he could not tell whether she had heard of the Bolton and the Hornwoods. But that sounded much like House Stark now.  
It was many weeks later when Bran was sparing with Calon and Tomtoo that word came through of Ser Rodrik‘s return. Some outriders had spotted him returning. When the host came into view Bran noted with dismay that a huge chunk was missing.

By the time Ser Rodrik rode into the yard Bran stood in the brisk, cold wind and watched as the prisoners were brought forth. A dirty, thick and smelly man was yanked roughly and dragged to the dungeons. More prisoners followed him but none was as roughly handled as the first. Maester Luwin took a deep breath and shuffled up to Ser Rodrik. Whatever he was suggesting, Ser Rodrik was annoyed by it, he shook his head vigorously and more than once made to walk away. Bran watched them discreetly as though he wasn’t and joined the others in sparring. Calon hopped up to him.   
“Begging your pardons M’lord. Ser Rodrik says the trial is after supper.” It was hardly noon yet. If Ser Rodrik wanted to have the trial quickly, he had better get ready.  
He went to Maester Luwin’s turret that was well arranged for once. In the corner were Jojen and Meera dusting and cleaning away with Joseth helping. Maester Luwin sat smiling and even nodded happily at Bran. Bran asked him about the trial quickly before he could get assigned to dusting the afternoon away.  
“Ser Rodrik was too late to reach Lady Hornwood in time. She had... done desperate things to survive. But the long and short of it is that the Bastard of Bolton married her and then forced her to hand over her lands.” Bran knew that was a tricky knot already.

“He was killed resisting capture but we caught his servant Reek who was, just as bad to say the least. Ser Rodrik returned to the Dreadfort to demand that all those who assisted him be handed over. Some agreed, some disagreed. Regardless Ser Rodrik prevailed on them to open the gates for clemency. A short fight took place among the Dreadfort men and we eventually left the Castle under a Castellan named Damon. Ser Rodrik was loathe to leave good men at the mercy of Bolton soldiers but he dispatched a great part of his men nigh two hundred foot to protect the Hornwood lands.”   
Bran leaned back and thought of his Father and thousands of Starks waiting for him to become a man in name and a Stark in Winterfell.  
“Then I will pass judgement on this Reek and all his men. But first I need you need you to tell me again everything that happened without easing it for me.” 

Bran had Lord Manderly’s carved Dagger attached to his belt. He faced the accused. All gagged and bound at his insistence awaiting their trials. He started, "Reek, accused of aiding Ramsay Snow in the capture and death of Lady Hornwood." The man was shoved forward roughly and the gag torn from his face.  
The captive grinned “Him never killed the lady. Them loved each other. Like Lord and Lady Stark. They did. She wanted someone brave and strong to keep her safe. Elsewise, why did she give him her lands? Most women would fight to the end.”  
Bran breathed in to hold himself, at this foul creature comparing Ramsay to his father and stared the creature in the eye. “How did she die?”   
“Outlaws captured her and there’s not a soul who can say otherwise”. He licked his lips and grinned. His own eyes never straying from Bran's. His eyes. Why did they feel so wrong?   
“Ser Rodrik here begs to differ. He claims you starved her on that creature’s command.” He could not bring himself to call that Bolton a bastard. Jon and Larence were bastards and noble, kind people. He merely frowned at the Bolton servant harder.  
“His eyes” he whispered to Maester Luwin. The Maester frowned and his eyes widened slightly.  
“Witnesses” Half a dozen of the prisoners stepped forward and begun clamouring. Ser Rodrik raised a hand for silence and motioned a woman in a roughshod dress to step forward.   
“Do you know this man?” Maester Luwin asked, the girl could not even turn to look at him but she did now and gasped; then she steeled herself and yet her voice trembled as she spoke “That man is Ramsay Snow, Milord”   
The hall burst into gasps and yells of anger.  
“Child, how is it you know him?” Ser Rodrik asked, not unkindly.  
“He came to my village and took some girls for maids. But he only took us two by two. And when he came again he took my me and my sister but when we were far from the village he said he would kill us if we didn’t run. Then my sister tr-“   
“Lies! I am indeed Ramsay Bolton-“ He started but Maester Luwin cut him off   
“Snow. Not Bolton. Never Bolton”   
“Whatever the name. I am of Roose Bolton's blood and I demand a chance to prove my innocence to the King in the North himself!” He retorted.  
Rickon piped up beside Bran, “Robb won’t listen to you. You’re an evil man. You’re not a Snow-“ Bran broke in before Rickon could say more.  
“My brother is more right than he knows. You are neither Snow nor Bolton. You are an evil, smelly servant and you have stained Winterfell with your lies and stench!”  
A great gale of laughter followed his words. “Alebelly!” he called. “Take this creature outside and hang him! Gag him too!” Alebelly was not on hand, but the guards that were swiftly gagged him and dragged him outside. “Wait for me” he called.  
“Is there anyone else that denies guilt? No?”  
“Mercy, I’ll take the black!” A Bolton man-at-arms cried.  
“All who confess their guilt may take the black or face the noose. Step forward if you believe yourself to be an innocent man, ignorant of the crimes committed by Ramsay Snow and this servant!”   
Not a man of them could speak and Ser Rodrik called for them to be escorted to the dungeons. Maester Luwin went after the men hanging Reek-not Ramsay Snow- and Bran went to his chambers as Tomtoo and Calon followed him dutifully to his room where Summer perked up his head at the two boys who stopped at the door. Bran turned to them;   
“Will you help me prepare?”  
They seemed stunned he would ask but Calon stepped forward and immediately went to the huge dresser and they helped him change into heavier clothing. Tomtoo fumbled with a sword belt.  
“Slowly. We do not need to be in a hurry for that man. Justice will come in its time...” he trailed off unable to remember the rest. Calon brought him a shortsword, but on him it looked like a proper longsword. On one side he attached the carved dagger and looked at himself in the looking plate Sansa left behind. Satisfied he looked lordly enough, he turned to Tomtoo and Calon.   
“Perhaps you two should take cloaks as well.” Calon picked two long and sparse cloaks and a dagger for each of them. The boy was clever enough not risk Ser Rodrik‘s wrath by picking anything that would rival Bran’s appearance. Once ready, all three of them and Summer stepped out to Bran’s first execution.   
_A boy no longer_, he thought dully. 


	6. Chapter 6

The wind was soft but cold enough to make him grateful for the cloaks. He looked around and saw that Rickon was no where near. That was just as well. He had read about hangings and they were as ugly as, well Ramsay Snow for one. The accused stood gagged and bound. The noose was on his neck and the floor that held him up was supported by a long rope that wound over a thick log and was tied down. Bran knew what he had to do. He turned to the higher level and for a moment it was as though he could see his father watching him. Bran breathed steadily as all the other prisoners were brought up to watch. He turned to Ramsay and called for the gag to be removed. The creature stank and spat as soon as the gag came off. Even Summer panting beside him seemed distressed and restless.  
“Any last words, creature?” His voice came out like a squeak and he was painfully aware of his hands shaking. Regardless, he put his hands on his sword belt and waited.  
“Curse you boy, my father will march on your precious castle and flay you all living!” he spat.  
“Lord Bolton will receive this news with a shrug and forget about you and your disgusting ways. You will die unmourned and unwanted as you have lived.” Ser Rodrik spat on him when he finished. Oddly enough, this seemed to worry the creature in ways he could not understand, for one so evil.   
Bran drew his sword carefully and thrust it into the earth as he had seen Lord Eddard do at the first and only execution he had watched his father perform.  
“In the name of King Robb Stark; King in the North and the Trident. I, Brandon Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Prince in the North do hereby sentence you to die for the murder of Lady Hornwood.” The sword came down on the log and the rope snapped as the wood dropped from beneath Ramsay. He frothed at the mouth, his hateful eyes trying to look at Bran. Bran watched it all as Summer whined and growled at the creature.  
He jerked, swung and finally stilled. Bran sheathed his sword and went off towards the godswood where the Weirwood stood and would give him comfort. Summer followed him as did Tomtoo and Calon; but Bran motioned for them to wait behind and went with Summer as his father had gone before him so often.

For many weeks after the hanging, Winterfell remained terse. Even the visitors who came and left kept their voices low and less people called him 'little lord'. Even Osha stopped calling him a little prince. It was the execution, he knew. Ser Rodrik feared reprisals from the Dreadfort and kept a sizeable garrison of nigh four hundred men. He had Bran and the other boys training more and more and large parties were stopped before entering Winterfell. Yet the Dreadfort had sent no more than taxes and harvest reports. Maester Luwin claimed that they could be bidding their time or waiting word from Lord Bolton himself. Whether the man knew or not was a mystery. Maester Luwin had sent off letters to Robb with more than one rider with orders to destroy the letters in case they were attacked. Bran scrambled his increasingly cluttered desk for the letter he wrote to his brother.

_To the King in the North, Robb Stark_   
_By the time you read this letter I would hope you have heard of the mishap at Hornwood. Ramsay Snow attacked old Lady Hornwood and tried to claim her lands. Maester Luwin will write you more about it. He might also tell you that I was forced to execute a man for his crimes. We hung him, but I still swung the sword myself. It felt odd, Father always made it look easy. Was it easy for you either? One of Father’s old friends Howland Reed sent his children to me as wards. I like them better than the Freys. They are very unkind especially the one that we call Little Walder. Maester Luwin will tell you everything you need to know. Especially how I must receive your permission to command the bannermen of House Stark. Osha is still here. I like her now and so does Rickon. She takes good care of him. Jon is beyond the wall, looking for Uncle Benjen. I think they will be back soon. I know Uncle Benjen is not dead. Jon said we Starks are hard to kill. You told me so yourself. I heard of your victory over the Lannisters. I think you should defeat Lord Tywin. He is the one that matters, Big Walder said as much. Maybe once you defeat him you can marry your Frey bride. Maester Luwin told me and I wish you good luck with Lady Frey if she’s like the Walders. Sorry, I shouldn’t tease. I know you always do your duty and I swear by the Old Gods I will be as dutiful as any Stark_

He was still reading when Derik burst into the room to summon Bran to the Maester’s turret. Maester Luwin was listening to Gage discuss the supplies for wood. Rickon was already there smashing walnuts with a gusto that belied the tension in Winterfell. Bran sat down and looked around, it would be sometime before he got used to seeing Maester's turret so tidy.

“Maester Luwin? Is there a problem?”

"Ser Rodrik sent for you. Trouble at Torrhen’s square.” His eyes seemed especially droopy and red. Ever since Robb left, the Maester had worked as both steward and Maester and he seemed to stoop a little lower and walk much slower. Ser Rodrik came in to the chambers puffing and glowering.

“There’s trouble at Torrhen’s square. An Ironborn named Dagmer Cleftjaw. He must be mad to strike at the North. Like we needed such trouble. These Ironborn are fierce fighters. I’ll leave men in the holdfasts in case of an attack but I still need more men. I-“ He broke off and cast an irritated look at Rickon who was smashing the ‘Lannister’ walnuts with his rock.  
Bran raised his voice to speak over him, “How many men do you need to def-“ He suddenly remembered Jojen's dream, but how to convince Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik of such 'nonsense' was beyond him. Then he had an idea. “ -to defeat the Ironborn and.. Rickon! Stop it! You are distracting us” Then he paused and did his best to look shocked at his own words. Ser Rodrik was not slow to take his meaning. Maester Luwin did not completely comprehend the situation. Ser Rodrik huffed;  
“You may be right, the Ironborn could ambush me and my men or even encircle us.” The Maester’s eyes widened slightly and he sneezed.  
“There is another matter we must consider. When Lady Hornwood left the Harvest Feast, Ramsay knew where and when she was going. Could there be spies around? With our attention on this Ironborn we could find ourselves the victims of a well timed betrayal. We should consider it.”  
Bran smiled, A feast in a crypt.   
“I do believe we have a way to hold Winterfell.”  
He was still sleeping a few weeks after Ser Rodrik's departure when it started. A few voices grew outside and a strange man entered. Bran clutched his dagger under the sheets and stared at the man. His face broke into an ugly grin when Bran gasped at the Greyjoy sigil on his chest. Theon stepped into the room and for a moment Bran was relieved, then he noted that Theon was not grinning as usual and he wasn’t fighting the Ironborn man either though he was covered in blood. He had an ill feeling he knew where that blood came from till Theon sauntered forward and sat squarely on the bed. Then it felt like a noose tightening round his neck.  
“Hello Bran.”

Most of the Winterfell servants were pushed and prodded into the Great Hall. Theon sat on the High Seat of the Starks as Bran stood beside him.  
“I Brandon Stark have yielded Winterfell and its lands to Theon Grey-“  
“Prince, boy and speak quickly” Theon grunted at him. “I have yielded Winterfell to Prince Greyjoy, Lord of Winterfell.” Mikken scowled at his words. Mikken was one of the few people that knew about the Feast. What little good it could still do. Theon was smiling again and he rambled on about his fairness and the duties he expected to be fulfilled by the Winterfell servants. When he finished he turned to a bald Ironborn and asked how many men they had.  
“Twenty one. Most of the garrison was sleeping in boiled Leather and helmets. Wasn’t easy.” Then he spat on Gage. Osha laughed at that,   
“M’lord Greyjoy I was taken captive by the Starks, I’ve been left to warm the straw for any that wanted.” She threw a look at Gage. “I’ve had a bellyful of it. Put a spear in my hand again and I'll fight for you. Hard and true too.”   
“Do you think me a fool to trust you?” Theon looked as though he would kill anyone who vexed him.  
“The old Maester keeps ravens hidden with the fowls!” she ventured.  
Theon grinned and pointed at one of his men who took Osha and dragged her away. Bran couldn’t believe she had betrayed them like that. Even though she knew nothing about the Feast she was already spoiling everything. Unless; someone spoke?


	7. Chapter 7

He looked out the window at where the huge Greyjoy flag flew over Winterfell. Theon had lost a great deal of men trying to take Winterfell. He was raging and easily angered. He plucked out one of Gage's eyes because the soup was poorly spiced. He sent off no less than four ravens asking for help to hold the castle and three riders. The first returned with orders for Theon to abandon Winterfell and hand over Bran and Rickon to Theon’s sister Asha. Bran thought that Theon had little love for her, the way he cursed, raged and then grabbed a whore from the Wintertown and dragged her to his bed. He knew what Theon was doing in Father’s bed and it vexed him sorely he could do nothing. A rough hand suddenly clamped over his mouth and he was yanked roughly from his bed by Osha. She winked at him and pointed at his clothes. Rickon was in a corner scowling. Bran dressed as quickly as possible and joined her in leaving. They joined the Reeds and further down passed two dead Greyjoys. One was the man who put out Gage’s eye. Osha spat on him and took them through the Hunter's gate were another dead guard lay. She had a horse and Meera tied an old wormy apple in front of it and smacked it. The horse whickered and galloped off. They headed in the other direction where some holdfasts lay barely a day’s walk away.

They walked through out the night when Osha turned around and shooed the Wolves off. Bran and the others went to a close crag and climbed it. They had been walking all night yet even with dawn breaking, they still saw Winterfell in the distance.  
“Osha” Bran started, “I do not want to be ungrateful but are you going to tell us what we should do?”  
“I’m sorry I said all those things. You know that I had to get the Ironborn to trust me. Anything less and we’d be guests of Fair Prince Theon” She snapped out the last few words.  
“For now we go back in.” Osha said;  
“Back? We can’t go back” Bran sputtered  
“Calm yourself Bran, it is to throw the hounds off your scent. I’ve done it myself lots of hunts” Meera said. Bran conceded to them and Osha took them past the dead guards and into the crypts. Bran stayed near the entrance to watch Winterfell and the clueless guards running about, Bran would have laughed if he wasn’t so near the guards. Sure enough a horn blew and Theon set out with around six men besides Maester Luwin and Little Walder.

They went deeper into the Crypt and soon fifty soldiers including Derik were all laughing at Osha's clever ruse. The men didn’t have enough food for an actual feast. But Jojen allowed that their green dreams would take strange forms.  
“Used to. Used to take strange forms. I haven’t had a green dream in ages.” Jojen Reed’s voice was soft and the crypts played tricks with the sound. Bran slept through out the day waking up to search for exits in the crypts but the Stark men said that all the tunnels they found were already collapsed or in danger of collapsing. Then the gate swung open and Maester Luwin entered to kneel before Lord Eddard's crypt and pray. Derik went higher to watch after the door and Bran stepped forward.  
“Maester.” The Maester turned and his eyes shot wide open.   
“Bran! Thank the gods. Listen to me. All of you.” The other guards crept forward as well.  
“Your brother's raven came through last night. None of the Ironborn saw it and I have it safe. Theon’s sister Asha has announced that she’s coming. Theon is very desperate to find someone to take your place. No doubt he will put this place to the torch.” The Maester sighed.  
“I have to stop him! Maybe if we can attack his sister when she comes and take them captive!” Bran could not bear the thought of Theon killing everyone in Winterfell.  
Maester Luwin shook his head and spoke clearly;   
“Listen. The maids are still loyal to you. I believe we can still do something. Here, I will have a maid put candles on the tomb itself. One candle if Theon and Asha only come to sack, two if they stay to talk, three if they begin searching for you around. And- and she will be singing.  
'Iron Lances' if it’s time to attack and 'The Bear and the Maid' if you should stay. If you can not defeat them, there are friendly holdfasts all around. They only refrain from attacking because of you two. As to the rest Gage and I have a plan.”  
“Perhaps you should tell us then” a guard grunted from somewhere.  
Maester Luwin nodded and started explaining his plan when the bell rung to signal Theon returning. The Maester frowned upon hearing the bell and went up. Bran and Jojen joined Derik at the door and watched as Theon carted in two bodies burnt black through the North Gate. One was missing a head.   
“Gods be good” he swore. Was Theon that desperate? Maester Luwin let out a convincingly anguished cry and Farlen charged Theon. An arrow in his back stopped him and as he bled out Bran watched everything.  
Asha Greyjoy arrived the next day and the maid lit two candles and swiftly left. They swiftly begun changing and wearing their armour for when Maester Luwin’s signal would come. For almost two hours there was nothing then a Maid wandered in singing ‘Iron Lances’. Theon was halfway across Winterfell and far too many Ironborn were in Winterfell for them to simply charge out.  
Derik grabbed the maid and spoke sharply.  
“Where are the men?”  
“All of the sister's men are with her in the Great Hall milord. Theon keeps four men with him always and the rest are on the walls.” She replied;  
“How many men do Theon and Asha have?” he kept his voice low but harsh.  
“Thirty-five for the sister. I don’t know about Theon milord.”  
“Theon has eighteen men at most.” Bran said.  
“Then that’s fifty-five men we should expect, I know Bran, but better to count over than less. Now we need to get to the Great Hall without alerting Theon.” Bran grinned,  
“We use the roofs.” A groan went up.

Gage was happy to help especially when he found out Bran was still alive. Maester Luwin had plotted everything out down to the drinks. For all of the Ironborn love of heavy ale; Gage would serve them watered wine first. After the first course he’d bring out more water and wine. Within an hour Maester Luwin would have brewed a strong sleeping draught, not necessarily safe and they would finally bring out the ale for the thirsty Ironborn. In an hour and a half, the first parts of the plan went off without a hitch. Asha and Theon Greyjoy left the table just as the ale came in. Maester Luwin had the serving girls take the drinks to their captors especially those on the walls. Bran waited to be moved from his hiding spot in the Great Keep with Rickon, Jojen and Meera. The silence was frightful.  
All at once, Winterfell seemed to awake in a clash of steel and blood. Bran watched as a lone Greyjoy soldier was smacked with a poleaxe. The metal head crunched against his boiled leather and mail then they moved out of his sight and for a moment he felt like a cripple again watching from a window.  
Within the hour, Derik took a brand and set the Greyjoy flag alight were it flapped and the streamers of House Stark were lowered over the gates. With most of the Ironborn contained, they immediately sent out riders to call Ser Rodrik and ask for men. Tomtoo and Calon were especially glad to see him and Old Nan hugged him so tightly, he felt half a boy again. Little Walder was stumped to see him but Bran ordered him to be locked in a tower cell until they sorted out the Ironborn and their own loses. Young Harks was dead, and Hayhead as well; Bran turned to Derik;  
“How many prisoners did you take?” The guardsman chewed thoughtfully then he answered,  
“ I’d say about forty M'lord, including the injured”  
“Get an archer and give them mercy. Now!” The guard looked at him queerly and briskly strode of in the direction of the barracks.   
Bran went back to his room with Summer. They both slept off with the careless abandon of a free man. 


	8. Chapter 8

Maester Luwin was unhappy, to say the least. He had quickly countermanded the order to execute the Ironborn and was in Bran's chambers simmering.  
“Regardless of how dangerous the sleeping draught was, I did not use poison because we had need of the Ironborn for hostages. I know you are distraught over your temporary loss of Winterfell but you are a lord! You must hold yourself!”  
“I know. I'll try to get better.” Bran meant no disrespect to the old Maester, but he was tired and anxious for Ser Rodrik's return with his men.  
“King Robb will not be angry with you. He’ll understand. But you are to hold yourself.”  
He turned and shuffled out.  
Bran sat up, breathed steadily and walked to his flagon of water. He could still remember the day he woke up to feel his legs. Thinking on the past would not be helpful and he went to the baths. Ser Rodrik sent his horse ahead under the command of Cley Cerwyn who was relieved beyond words to see Stark flags over the gates. Ser Rodrik himself was just a few hours behind with some horse and foot. Bran waited in Father's- Robb’s Solar to receive the old knight.   
“Bran it’s so good to see you. It seems your wild idea of hiding Men in the crypts was brilliant as well as inspired by Stark legends.”  
“It was not a Feast truly. But it was enough to be Theon’s undoing.” Ser Rodrik clenched his fist at the name and Bran noticed the blood stains. There was no talk of battle on the way back by the riders meaning Bran had an idea whose blood it was.  
“Theon?”   
“Is a treacherous pile of wet buggery. Think naught of him. He deserves no less-“ The old knight broke off as Leobald Tallhart entered whispering with Maester Luwin. The two men sat down in the table while Ser Rodrik paced till Cley entered. As soon as they entered Bran cleared his throat and raised his voice.  
“Thanks to you my lords for your aid in liberating Winterfell. But the Ironborn are not gone yet. Deepwood Motte remains under the yoke of the Ironborn as do several holdfasts. I believe we should take our full force to liberate Deepwood Motte.”  
“Well and good to free the Glovers but they can hardly defend themselves.” If Leobald Tallhart was displeased that his son was being passed over for a bastard raised by the Glovers, he did very little to conceal it. He spoke haltingly and glared at Bran as he spoke.  
“The Glovers have no Lord and no rallying point to call their banners if they so wished. Once they are free, then they can get about to defending their rights.” Ser Rodrik pointed out.  
“I agree with Tallhart, to an extent, My troops are needed to defend my smallfolk from Ironborn and my lands from certain hungry lordlings.” Cley Cerwyn spoke up.  
“We only have need of your troops till our Stark banners are called.” Maester Luwin assured them.  
“What about the Bolton’s? They should fight too.” Bran piped up.  
“True. It would prove the loyalty of this new Castellan.” Ser Rodrik clenched his hands as he spoke.  
“I’m not fighting alongside a Bolton host!” Leobald Tallhart sounded fear-stricken.  
“Yes, you are.” Bran misliked the man already. It was bad enough that he was refusing to obey him.   
“We will ask the Boltons to fight in another thrust if it please you.” Ser Rodrik acceded.   
“Very well. That is quite acceptable.” Leobald Tallhart cast a sly grin at Bran. Bran put his hand visibly on his dagger and rose up swiftly. The Tallhart jerked back with suspicion on his face. Bran calmly asked;  
“Wine or ale?” Then produced two bottles from a nearby chest. Cley was having trouble hiding his face and quickly put his mouth to the empty tankard. 

Ser Rodrik sent word to the Dreadfort to bring three hundred men around the Stony Shore while they marched against Deepwood Motte. Bran stayed behind in Winterfell as the men snaked out into the cold winds. Bran was reading on Northern Houses and trying to figure the strengths of the Northern Houses when Rickon bounded in and started clambering over Bran. Bran was suddenly drawn to remember all the times when Father and Robb would push him off trying to focus hard on some mundane task. Mundane no longer.   
“When is Robb coming home? Is mother coming too? Can I see Jon?”   
“Yes.” Bran answered. Rickon was not satisfied.  
“What will happen to Little Walder? Can he come out and play?” Bran had almost forgotten about the treacherous little Frey. And to think that Robb had to marry one. He shuddered at the thought of marrying a Frey. In his head all Freys looked like Little Walder. Even the women. A thought popped into his head. He got up and strode to Maester Luwin’s turret. On reaching there he heard light snoring and peeked in to see the Maester fast asleep. He had to find a steward and relieve poor Maester Luwin, but who? It had to be someone loyal, someone bright and someone learned. A steward who could not read was as useful as a blunt sword. Good to know you have one but little else. Septon Chayle seemed the most likely. He was loyal, well-read but a Southerner from the Riverlands. He knew he had to please the Northern lords. The other option was to find someone who would be willing to serve as Steward from a noble house. He went to the library where Septon Chayle and a few attendants were dusting away. He bid them a good morning and swiftly picked up maps and genealogies. He saw an interesting book; _Strength of Mind_ surprisingly by a Manderly. He picked it and started to leave when he saw another interesting book; _The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of Westeros_. He wrestled the books into place and noticed another interesting book. He shook his head and walked away, careful to keep his eyes on the ground.   
Bran went back to his chambers and dropped the books before twisting round to stalk to Little Walder’s chambers. On arriving there he interrupted Little Walder who was praying. Bran stood and waited.  
“The Crone came to me with her lamp lifted high. I sinned and I fell. I beg your clemency and solemnly swear by the Seven to serve whatsoever penance you require of me.” Bran looked at the Frey for half a minute. When the Frey became uncomfortable, he walked away wordlessly. At his return, his chamber was opened and Maester Luwin was bent over the books.   
“Most impressive Bran, I think _Strength of Mind_ to be a most excellent treatise on comportment and nobility. And why the maps?”  
“The Ironborn aren’t going to disappear because we take Deepwood Motte. We might need more men. I think we should Call the Banners.” Bran answered.  
“Ah. And why” he asked circling to the other side of the table, “Is House Mormont's name circled next to genealogies?” This was hard. How to convince Maester Luwin was beyond him but he had to try.  
“We are a Northern House. Located in the North-“  
“And?”  
“It is my belief that, as a Northern House. We should be more related to the Northern Houses.” Bran was unaccountably damp when he finished.  
“Your father thought the same. He had hoped to secure a northern bride for your- I see. Afraid of marrying a Frey are we?”  
“You can have all the Freys. I will find someone else.” Bran was set not to marry a Frey.  
“Come with me.” Maester Luwin turned and shuffled away. Bran followed the Maester to his turret. Maester Luwin pulled out a sizeable chest and produced a book.  
“The list of all the noble children of the North and their ages. I think I have a few Skagosi names here as well. Now where? Ah! House Mormont. Lyanna Mormont... of an age with you. Is that who you wish to marry? Without your brother’s leave?”  
“He gave me the authority to make decisions as the Lord of Winterfell.”  
“The Lord of Winterfell does not make betrothals. The head of House Stark does. King Robb did not declare you Head of House Stark. And in any case I seem to recall that you swore not to misuse your power and be as dutiful as any Stark.” Maester Luwin inclined his head.  
“Besides, why Mormont? And not Glover or Manderly.” An impish glint shone in the Maester’ eyes. “Or yes, even Skagosi.”   
  
That evening a raven from Deepwood Motte announced the safe recapture of the castle and surrender of its forces. It also said that the Glover children were being held by the Lord of Harlaw as hostages. By evening the birds left Winterfell in a small black cloud that spread to call the North to arms.

  
“Winter is Coming” ,Bran intoned.


	9. Chapter 9

The Greyjoys had put up a good fight, but been swiftly subdued. The banners had been called and a letter had been dispatched to Harlaw. Offering a trade of hostages for Asha’s safety. The raven arrived before Ser Rodrik and demanded five prisoners including a Harlaw as well as a letter of writing by Asha Greyjoy's hand assuring her safety and good treatment in exchange for the children. He urged them to hurry lest Balon Greyjoy caught word of the event and had the children put down for good. Bran wanted to hand them over as soon as possible. Maester Luwin urged caution but agreed to ask Ser Rodrik after the health of the prisoners. Later in the afternoon whilst he trained with Tomtoo and Calon, with Rickon watching, at archery butts the horn blew to announce visitors from the north. Bran watched as the gate swung open and Jon Snow rode into Winterfell.  
“Jon!” Rickon barrelled headfirst at the still mounted Jon and Osha swiftly snatched him away from the horse's hooves and dumped him in Jon Snow's arms. Before Bran could reach Jon, a flash of black knocked into Ghost with a yelp and Summer soon came panting round the corner and knocked into the rolling black and white forms. All three direwolves rolled and nipped each other till Bran leapt into Jon's arms. Jon had grown stronger since he last saw him no doubt before his fall. Regardless, he still found it hard to carry both Bran and Rickon with ease. He set Bran down and carried Rickon on his back as he marched straight to the great keep. Bran’s eyes widened as he realized where Jon was headed to but he held his tongue till Jon nudged his door open and faced the Frey drapes. Big Walder sat up from where he was writing a letter. Jon dipped his head to him and walked away to Bran’s room where he playfully threw Rickon on the bed to his delight. The three direwolves stalked in the open door and hung back. Jon looked about the room and spoke slowly;  
“Well done Bran, you are the Lord of Winterfell and a good one at that.” He strode to the cluttered table where the page on House Mormont was opened.  
“Do you remember the name of the Lord Commander of the Watch, Bran?” Bran thought hard.  
“Jeor Mormont! What was he like? Was he kind? Intelligent? Brave?” Jon looked at him quizzically then returned his gaze to the books and nodded.  
“Most of those things, yes. Kind? Not so much? But the Night's Watch needs hard men. Gods know now what we need is men.”  
“You can have all the men you need. I would be glad to help.” Jon smiled  
“Somehow I feel that decision is not yours to make Bran.” It was both a question and a truth.  
“Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin make all the decisions. I just stamp my seal and answer lessons.” Jon smiled and nodded sympathetically.   
“When I was Lord Mormont’s squire I could easily learn from him but I wanted to ride and fight. Now he’s dead and we all have to ride and fight. I just wish I had stayed to learn a little more.” Jon sighed.  
“What happened?”  
“The Great Ranging. After Uncle Benjen disappeared, Lord Commander Mormont took over three hundred brothers of the Night's watch north to find him. We did, but he was different. He had... done things to survive. He told us much information about the Wildling army and we headed back. Then on the fortress we called the Fist some creatures came. Somehow dead but not quite. They killed the Lord Commander even though Uncle Benjen had warned us. Those of us left retreated to a keep North of the Wall. We were still coming south when Donal Noye sent men North to look for us. We are supposed to be holding the wall but Lord Commander Noye said I had to come south to beg for men. Bran, listen to me please, the wildlings are not our enemy, what is out there, those dead men, they are the true enemy. Even if you’ll let them settle on the Gift. We must get the wildlings south.” Bran listened silently, not since Robb left, had anyone given him information with such free trust. He thought on what he heard and realized the crow from the north must have been trying to warn him.  
“I’ll help you Jon. Anything you need, I'll get it for you. I believe you Jon.” He wanted to speak with someone about everything and he did. He told Jon about his legs, about Lady Hornwood and executing Ramsay, he spoke of escaping Winterfell and nothing would do but that he tell Jon of the day he first met Osha. He told Jon of Farlen, Hayhead and Gage. When he finished his rambling, Jon smiled at him.  
“I see what you do with your betrothal. Bran, Arya is not gone. You should not make a betrothal because she reminds you of Arya. Still I suppose it is better than a Frey or just more Southron blood in House Stark. Yet, if I may be so bold. I think executing Ramsay was the bravest thing you did. But Theon; we might be able to get some use out of. The girls. Any word from them? You should write to Tyrion. He may be a Lannister, but he was kind, to both of us. Perhaps he can help you to exchange Theon for the girls.” It was a good plan and solid. Bran knew the next question would be about Arya more like than not.  
“Any word from either of them. Even Arya?” Jon looked despondent before he even finished asking the question.  
“Nothing from Arya, since Father was taken. Sansa sent word asking Robb to bend the knee. Nothing else.”   
“Let’s see what Gage is cooking shall we?” They left the room and went about the castle. Maester Luwin was pleased to see Jon and Old Nan, strong as ever cooed over Jon. Osha bowed her head and moved on but all the children of the castle screamed in delight when Jon handed out Ambers, shadowcat teeth and bones. Then he and Bran descended into the dungeons and went to meet Theon. Theon lay sprawled out only standing when he saw Bran. For a moment he locked eyes with Jon and begun weeping silently. Jon shook his head at him and walked to the cell of Asha Greyjoy.  
“What is it?” Her voice was curt, harsh and hard.  
“We are exchanging you for hostages. Your Uncle Harlaw wants a letter of writing saying you are unharmed.” Jon lied but kept his voice still.  
“We? Did the Night's Watch reject you? Do you mourn your precious father yet?” she spat at Bran but Jon quickly used his arm to block the spittle.   
“Give me parchment and ink and quickly.” Jon ripped a roll of parchment and called for ink, his eyes never straying from the woman.  
They stood in silence as she furiously scribbled and then she tossed the parchment at Jon. Jon turned silently and walked away.

They were eating their evening meal with Jon regaling Rickon with tales of the Wall when Ser Rodrik returned. He rode ahead of the army with young Larence Snow. He entered the hall and on sighting Jon paused; his hand slowly moving to his sword. Jon waved his black-sealed letter and Ser Rodrik relaxed. The Maester and Ser Rodrik looked at each other and introduced Larence Snow.  
“This is Larence Snow, natural son of Lord Halys Hornwood. This is Jon Snow, Natural son of Lord Eddard and Princes Brandon and Rickon Stark.”  
“My lords, princes. You have my thanks for freeing me. I hope to hear from my foster siblings.” Larence stood straight but bowed when he spoke.  
Bran pointed to the empty seat and offered him meat off the skewer. The older boy smiled and ate while Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik and Jon watched him like hawks. Bran cleared his throat, and they all returned to their meals. He would miss being the lord.

Of all the captured Ironborn, thirty were taken to the dungeons while over eighty accepted to take the black when faced with the option of death. They were cramped into a few cells and given a few days to reconsider. Ser Rodrik made it clear to Bran that this was merely to scare them and they would not be executed summarily. Jon left with hundreds of helms, breastplates and greaves and a hundred shields and spears as the first of the banners streamed into Winterfell.


	10. Chapter 10

House Bolton came with a thousand and two hundred foot and five hundred horse; House Manderly outdid them with a thousand and five hundred foot and eight hundred horse. They along with House Stark's own banners of two thousand foot and five hundred horse were the largest armies. The Manderly’s army was led by Ser Marlon Manderly who allowed that they had been recruiting sellswords to boost their ranks. House Hornwood was excused for their safety but even the Mountain clans came forward. When all the banners were summoned, Bran knew it was time. He called the Lords to the Great Hall and breathed to steady himself. When the lords arrived, Maester Luwin made sure he had a hand bell nearby to compensate for Bran’s voice.   
Mors Umber kept an eye on Summer and Cregan Karstark demanded to free Moat Cailin. Every man of them agreed that horse was their best option to defeat their enemies, but not enough to agree who the threat was. The news that Theon was in Winterfell sparked the lords to demand his head. In the end, Ser Rodrik argued heatedly with the lords and one of the Ryswell sons complained about their castle under siege. Cley insisted that they free the castles first and allow the Crannogmen to get Moat Cailin.  
Lady Glover's steward declared it would be nearly impossible to fight the Ironborn with such few numbers as he conveyed rumours of longships bearing nigh fourteen thousand men to the North. He claimed that despite their superior numbers the Ironborn would try to be everywhere and nowhere. Lord Ryswell insisted they start by relieving his castle and denying the Ironborn a foothold in the North. Mors Umber insisted that aid be sent to the Night's Watch as well lest they be flooded from the back while they fought the Ironborn.  
Bran agreed and delivered Jon's report and insisted that a few men could sally forth to break the host and end the threat for the next few years.   
The hall quieted down to murmurs of assent. And sparked up at the next mention of the exchange of hostages for five Ironborn. A minor lord called the exchange for children foolhardy and was swiftly dispatched by the nearest guards at a flick of Bran's hand. They agreed to meet again the next morning and broke off for the night.   
After two days of debate they settled on locking off Ryswell lands and sending troops to relieve Moat Cailin. Bran insisted that Cregan Karstark and Mors Umber retake Glover lands while he rode south to free Moat Cailin. The tally stood at seventeen thousand foot and four thousand horse. The Mountain clans agreed to ride with Bran south while he considered a marriage proposal for Rickon. In the end he rode south with eight hundred calvary to free Moat Cailin.   
After many weeks they arrived to the news that the Crannogmen were ahead of them, having seized one of the three towers. The Ironborn were holding onto Moat Cailin with all they could and had very few scouts out. The gates were barricaded shut and the walls filled with archers and crossbowmen. Ser Rodrik had made it clear that they needed to wait for the Crannogmen to draw out the Ironborn before breaking them. A scout rode in to announce over two thousand foot that had landed and was making their way to them.  
“What do we need to do?” Bran asked.  
“Ironborn lack discipline, a good charge should break them, a shame that the plains here are rolling and swampy. “  
Soon the Ironborn boiled over the hills and they charged as they came down the hills in a loose block formation. Against everything Bran had learnt, Ser Rodrik blew the horns and swept at them from downhill. The Ironborn were out of their depth, Ser Rodrik split his horse in two flanking both sides of the block and charging them from the sides. Their uphill advantage lost, the Ironborn immediately switched to pike formations and their archers strung their bows. The northern cavalry broke off and turned to avoid charging into the pikes. The Ironborn commanders were the only mounted forces and lost control as their troops broke after the routed cavalry. A few men fell to the Ironborn as Ser Rodrik’s thrust outpaced Bran's men. Then swung around and smashed through the loose Ironborn ranks, as they slowed down Bran’s men swung around Ser Rodrik and crashed through the Ironborn ranks. Bran was clad in the strongest armour with an armoured horse and heavy lance cleverly reduced to his size. He was near the middle of the thrust but he still heard what sounded like a man, cursing under Dancer and his horse whickered and stumbled but kept his stance. He levelled his horse and speared a man, then rode down a second as the Ironborn ranks shattered and the men ran in the direction of the Moat. They reached Moat Cailin scattered around and broken with the Northern horse trampling down stragglers. The gates opened as the Ironborn rushed in to safety. The Ironborn closed the gate on their own than risk the Northern horse pouring in. The fighting calmed down to skirmishes between Ironborn and Crannogmen. Then they settled for the night. In the middle of the night, the Crannogmen launched another offensive to take Moat Cailin. By morning only one last tower stood and Ser Rodrik sent for terms of surrender. The Ironborn accepted safe passage and handed over the castle. Barely two hundred men came forth mostly sickly and wounded. And Ser Rodrik handed command of the stronghold to the Crannogman who had the command.   
Within the week they sped of in the direction of Deepwood Motte.   
After a near a month of riding, Bran was certain he never wanted to touch a horse again. He was sore all over and on arriving went straight for his chambers. He was on the privy when word came through that Alysane Mormont was seeking him out. He went to House Glover's godswood and knelt there in the sand. Soon she came to join him. She was a large woman, not lithe or tall.  
“Good day Prince Stark” Her voice was husky and low  
“Lady Mormont” he tried his best to make his voice as cold as Father’s.  
“Your letter was received and I will be honoured to consider this betrothal, between you and Lyanna. She is a strong girl but dutiful.”  
“Please understand that I have to ask my brother's permission. If my mother has a hand I most likely will not marry from the North.” Bran knew his mother was from the south and would have her eyes on strengthening Robb's position, still his words sounded wrong.  
“Very well, will that be all?” Bran nodded to her and she said a few words of prayer before rising and walking away. For now, Bran had a letter to write to an old friend.

He departed Deepwood Motte that evening after Mors Umber returned from battle with the news that just as the Glover steward predicted, the Ironborn had begun landing men and slaves in Ryswell territory. He took nigh all the mounted force and went east and North to the Kingsroad where they could pick up a far better pace. It took them about a week of hard riding on the Kingsroad to sight the Wall and Bran could not believe the height of the structure. It was sparsely dotted with structures and people running around. He heard a horn blast as he neared and more black brothers came to see them. Many were filthy like Yoren and looked like dishonourable fellows. He rode in whilst heated stares were being exchanged between his uncle, his brother and some people. He made a point of spurring Dancer to their middle and looking down at the southern men. Uncle Benjen quickly stepped in between him and the men while Jon helped him down.  
“Uncle Benjen. A pleasure.” His uncle was paler and garbed in training armour. They offered to escort Bran to the Lord Commander while Jon had a quiet word with the Stark men about one of the Southerners named 'Slynt'. The Lord Commanders office was near the smithy and the man who was Lord Commander was one-armed.  
“Prince Brandon Stark, my gratitude for your help. We face a terrible danger.”  
“Jon told me. I will help in any way I can with both your problems. May I have some Bread?”  
Jon stood up but Noye, waved him down and went into an inner chamber. The moment he was gone, Bran gave Uncle Benjen a hug. Uncle Benjen laughed and asked,  
“Someone seems to have recovered. How is Winterfell?” For a moment, Bran realized how much like his father his uncle sounded.  
“Well.” He croaked out. Then Noye entered and set down a platter of salt and bread. Bran ate and a thought formed in his head. Ser Rodrik dusted himself as he entered and sat down heavily. He whispered to Uncle Benjen who laughed so hard Jon looked perplexed.  
Noye spoke at length about how the wildlings had been united under the King beyond the Wall, a former brother ready to break through what he once guarded. Noye claimed that the wildlings had over a hundred thousand men and women. Bran went limp when he heard that. He and Ser Rodrik agreed a parley would be best to start with. And a Stark man with no speck of black on him went North. He returned alive and well with news that Mance Rayder would parley on the dawn of the next day.


	11. Chapter 11

Mance took his time and came with a large retinue. The King beyond the wall wore no crown and neither did Bran. A strange pale man on a bear stared at Summer and stretched his hand to the wolf. Mance tried to pull the man back when Bran felt something trying to enter Summer. He tried to knock it out and the man yelped and fell over frothing at the mouth. For a moment he could see the Crow flying away and all the animals around the man ran back into the forest. Bran looked at the wildlings who looked as impressed as possible for such hard men.  
“Mance Rayder is it?” Bran asked.  
“Of course. I believe you are Brandon Stark. I was not aware the men of the south tolerated Wargs among their own.” The King had a smooth way of speech almost courteous.  
“It makes no matter. You wish to pass the Wall, I hear?” Bran asked.  
“Yes. We do. We hope that you will be open to allowing us to get to safety. You see we are in danger from a force far more pressing than us.”  
“The army of the dead is real. I know this. Speak plainly.” Bran watched as they all adjusted uneasily and exchanged glances.  
“If you are all still mute, then allow me to say I cannot let you south of the Wall if you do not bend the knee.” The wildlings huffed and one laughed openly.  
“We are, a Freefolk so to speak. We kneel to no man.”  
“We are at war. I cannot allow you in so freely.”  
“We can promise to stay at the gift-“  
“And murder any brother of the Watch that makes the fatal error of going by the gift?” He asked  
“We can live peaceably. No need for harsh words” Mance Rayder was frightened of what he saw out there.  
“Very well. We will settle you where we want at first and you will help us defeat our Ironborn enemies. Fair?”  
“We want your word that we will not be forced to put our women and children in harm’s way. That we will not be taxed or forced to suffer through the rites of First Night. You will also swear not to harm us.”  
“We will swear. But not by word of mouth.”

“That was surprisingly easy.” Ser Rodrik said  
“Mance already made up his mind to get past. He found your options acceptable. No doubt he knows we need his help. Still, how do you wish to swear?” Jon asked.  
“By Weirwood” Bran answered. He knew the wildlings kept their gods as well. Hopefully it would be enough to get the Northern Lords to calm down.  
The worst part of being Lord was definitely the travelling. Bran did not wish to leave Uncle Benjen and Jon but they told him the North needed him. That filled him with pride and he tried to sit still in his saddle. Uncle Benjen was Master-at-arms of Castle Black and he promised to come spar with Bran someday, war or no war.

Mance Rayder begun to draw up a tally of his people and requested to pass the wall before 'they' came. Bran sped down to Deepwood Motte within three weeks where letters from Winterfell indicated that a certain dwarf would exchange the girls for both Theon and Asha Greyjoy. Maester Luwin’s note indicated he had already sent both to Lord Manderly to handle the exchange. Ser Rodrik was displeased about that.  
“It’s bad enough we have to give away the Ironborn hostages but losing those two is as bad as anything. The Maester should have allowed Asha to leave, Theon should have been kept. Robb deserves to execute that treacherous little squid.” Ser Rodrik huffed as he spoke.  
News at Deepwood Motte was grim. The northern army was split with most of the holdfasts east of Ryswell land being manned by token forces. The main portion sat in Deepwood Motte feeding off supply lines from Winterfell. Two thrusts were currently in the hands of Mors Umber and Cregan Karstark. They had gone to face forces mustering under Victarion Greyjoy by cutting off pieces before they could reform. At a mere gathering of the lords, Bran asked for information on the location and size of the Ironborn army.  
“We are in the dark concerning such matters, my lord.” A minor lord replied. Bran scrunched his face and looked at the map.  
“How did Umber and Karstark know where to go? Surely they did not charge blindly.” Bran asked.  
“Scouts saw Ironborn ships off the strand.” The distracted answer returned. They had done all this without him he realized.   
“These lands are full of northmen who are subject to Ironborn oppression. Why can they not be our eyes and ears?”   
“They are unlearned and fearful. It will be hard to pass on messages by word of mouth alone through cowardly smallfolk. And rely on them.”  
“We will have little need of them beyond scouts and carriers. We can use nobles and learned northmen to script the letters and one or two Maesters to teach the young and bright children. In a few weeks we will be steadily receiving word. It’s better than being in the dark.” A Ryswell officer nodded and stepped forward.  
“My Prince, I am learned and I know many a man in those lands. If I can get there I can begin work.” The minor lord cursed and muttered under his breath.  
“Very well. I will ask the clemency of House Glover for some silver and supplies. Be careful and see if you can get anything done, if not do not put yourself at risk. We will ask around for anymore willing volunteers and interested officers.” The officer, Harland, departed Deepwood Motte with silver and supplies for the work atop a shaggy horse. Bran hoped he had made the right decision. Supper was rationed even among the lords and highborn. Lady Glover was at table again, her children being fostered at Oldcastle of House Locke with their grandparents by their mother.

The next day Cregan Karstark was sighted returning with a sizeable party of a thousand and one hundred foot. He bore with him the body of Mors Umber. In the hall of Deepwood Motte, he explained their campaign and its fruits.  
“Mors and I took over seven hundred foot each. When we got inside Ironborn land Mors split off to thread the shoreline and I went through the stony mountains. Mors' men claimed to happen upon a smaller force of five hundred foot and ships which Mors easily took and burnt. The fires must have attracted more Ironborn than we hoped and they begun chasing Mors back to me. I swung round them and Rickard Ryswell helped me trap them in.”  
“How did you do that? Were you left alone by the Ironborn?” Bran cut short his tale.  
“We had a few skirmishes and raids, but aye, we were unengaged. Mors went first to a narrow valley by the sea and the Ironborn came down on him. He had his back to a high crag and climbed partway. He used pike walls to hold down the Ironborn and archers to cut them down but the crag was uneven and the pike wall broke. He held till I arrived and took the squids in the back. The Ironborn were forced to rout up the side of the sloping cliffs. They were easy picking after that.” Bran considered the news carefully and asked;  
“Do you have any news on Victarion Greyjoy?”  
“Just that he has taken Rillsteade of House Ryswell for his seat.”  
“Any word of Roose Ryswell?”  
“Hostage. To force a settlement.” Rickard Ryswell grumbled.  
“Thank you for your service, my lords of Ryswell and Karstark.” They bowed and strode out of the hall. Bran looked about then rose up to signal an end to the council. He looked at the map of the Sunset Shores and realized that far larger numbers were needed to bring down the Ironborn than what he had. He hoped Mance Rayder would be quicker and come down before someone else found out and started trouble with the Northern Lords. He had to still find a way to get them to agree. That night he and Summer went to the Godswood of Deepwood Motte and slept there.


	12. Chapter 12

Within a week of Cregan Karstark's return, the North received the first fruits of Harland's labour. He sent a detailed letter of the Ironborn forces down to abandoned and occupied holdfasts. Including those the Ironborn had taken over and those merely left under subjected Northmen. Bran had the letter read out to the Northern lords in council to their delight. At first Bran didn’t understand their joy until they began quieting down to look at the map. From snatches, he understood that they had found a useful holdfast to rally the men against.  
“Where is this holdfast located my lords?” He piped up.  
“Highbrook. Over here.” As he tapped the spot on the map, Bran noticed that it safely cut off nigh all the extended Ryswell land that ran alongside the Glover territories.  
“And it is lightly garrisoned?” someone asked.  
“No. The supporting holdfasts that chain it to Rillsteade have been abandoned. But why would they do that?” Rickard Ryswell's voice dropped as he spoke.   
“A trap?” Ser Rodrik asked. Bran looked at it and saw that it was fairly deep in Ryswell territory and at least a week's march from any of the boundaries.   
“Possibly. We don’t have fifteen thousand men but we know the importance of holding that chain.” Rickard Ryswell’s eyes ran up and down the map. Cregan Karstark laughed slightly.   
“You seem to have forgotten about the fact that our boundary with Ryswell is stiffly manned. We would be delayed long enough for the Ironborn forces to come up there.”  
“Not to mention that the Ironborn can easily sweep round us by sea and deploy at our back with no worries of being cut off.” Ser Rodrik mused. Bran picked up one of the Stark markers and drew it slowly through Tallhart lands and passed it into Ryswell lands. He looked at Leobald Tallhart and inclined his head.  
“Of course. The problem is breaking through the blockade.” The Tallhart replied.  
“No matter. If we move swiftly and surely I believe we can possibly pull this off.” The lords muttered assent and looked at each other.  
“My lords, Break camp.” Bran ordered.

The camp swiftly broke up in only a week and left Deepwood Motte three days after. The trek through the Wolfswood was slow and Bran maintained a stiff force of outriders and scouts mostly from Glover hunters and scouts. They made it into Tallhart lands and crawled past the lakes and mountain ranges. Near all the Tallhart force acted as scouts to ensure Victarion Greyjoy knew naught of their coming. They failed. Their first crossing into Ryswell lands had them set upon by thousands of Greyjoys from higher ground. After a light skirmish Ser Rodrik blew retreat and pulled back in good order. They were thrown back again on their second attempt and soon the men began to mutter of home. Their third attempt was a feint that brought the Ironborn swarming into the mountain passes. They were warned that their next crossing would relieve Roose Ryswell of his head. Rickard and Roger Ryswell set their faces and declared that the North outweighed their brother. Bran could not imagine how hard it must have been for them to place their subjects over their own family. The Stark army moved lower and tried yet again to break through the Ironborn.

They moved at dusk by Ser Rodrik’s command and set themselves in battle array. The cavalry stood to the flanks and the infantry marched. Without a hindrance, the army marched forward with heavy infantry bearing kite shields and pikes. The archers stood as the fourth and fifth ranks and second to the rear. The Ironborn waited for the army to reach a tight spot then charged the light infantry on the left flank. Ser Marlon charged his heavy infantry from the right flank wheeling round the back to take the Ironborn in the side. The fighting had already begun when the first knight crashed into the Greyjoy lines. The others followed swiftly and the Stark army squeezed out of the narrow pass. The Ironborn had a pitifully small cavalry that they tried to use to outflank the unprotected right flank. As they rushed to knock the lines they came within range of the last line of archers who begun firing on the passing light cavalry. A few fell and the others pushed onward. The right flank broke as the light cavalry entered the lines. The mountain clans wheeled their own cavalry to the rescue from the left flank and took them in the side. The gap quickly covered up and the last Ironborn cavalry was swallowed. They resumed their march and took the first of many holdfasts back that night. Bran was reading when a gruff Alysane came upon him.  
“My Prince. I just received word of a strange occurrence at home.”  
“Speak on.”  
“It seems the Old Gods led us to a small deposit of great value, no one knew we had”  
“Silver?”  
“If only; Iron not silver. Raw but near the northern shore. I must have a grant to get miners and smiths.”  
'Of course. I have no objection my lady. We must ensure that the Ironborn hear naught of it.”  
“Farewell prince.” She turned away.  
“How?”  
“Again?”  
“Again my prince. My lady” Bran corrected her. Strength of Mind spoke of the need for such courtesies. Alysane gritted her teeth and repeated herself.  
“Beg your pardon, My Prince?”  
“How did the Old Gods lead them?”  
“Some birds flew directly from our Weirwood to the ground where we were digging wells. They surrounded the well and began pecking.”  
“How many crows were there?”  
“I said nothing of crows.”  
“No, but how many?”  
“A flock.” Being able to control a flock of birds was no small feat. Bran was starting to regret refusing the three-eyed crow. Then he caught sight of Summer. He shook his head. He was a Stark, not a bird.

  
After a week of gruelling raids and skirmishes they came upon Highbrook itself. The castle was well-garrisoned and stocked. Harland reported another relief army on the way. They waylaid them and won a light victory. Once again Bran was nowhere near the battle. They chased the remaining Ironborn to Highbrook and crushed them near the castle walls. Ser Rodrik called for a parley and the Ironborn refused to surrender. That evening in a tent surrounding the holdfast, they discussed what to do? A prolonged siege was ruled out as was retreating. Storming the castle required ramming the gates uphill. Scaling the castle was also nigh impossible because of the lack of blind spots. The castle had no known secret pathways and the sewers were well within view of the guards and too small for full grown men. Bran could have squeezed in but anyone else would have to wait outside. The Manderly siege engines were hardly effective. That did not hinder Ser Marlon. After a week’s siege, the men rallied to storm the castle and Ser Marlon's trebuchet flung a pile of flaming rocks into the castle, followed by a steel tipped rain soon after. Pile after pile of flaming rocks went into the castle and Ser Marlon called for grapnels and ladders. The Manderly knights were first over the walls and swiftly followed by more men. By daybreak the castle stood beneath the direwolf and the horsehead. The Northmen threw a feast and Ser Marlon was hailed a hero. Due to the castle being on a hill, they had no access to easy water and not holding a godswood, sand to put out the fires. The thatch and wood roofing was badly burnt and collapsed. Following the victory the Northern army conquered all the Ryswell territory north of Highbrook. Try as they might, they were unable to make any considerable gains to the south. The Ryswell lands were split in two even as news came of the Fall of Flint’s finger. The Crannogmen reported another repelled attempt at seizing Moat Cailin. For a few days, the men were terse and irritable. Their lords were hardly better and spoke openly of how the Young Wolf would have cleared the Ironborn in a week. Most of the lords relented after Roose Ryswell’s head came by carrier. Bran returned two heads to their Ironborn lords. 

After the capture of Highbrook, the Northern army settled to count their losses. There were fifteen thousand men where there had been twenty thousand men. Not that Victarion Greyjoy was hindered by such losses. The Ironborn lord fought as his ancestors had. They struck and pulled back. Even with the reduced territory under the Ironborn, they still had trouble putting men anywhere trouble was. A few lords had suggested spreading their armies but Bran knew that their army would be destroyed little by little. Flint’s finger was faring worst of all with the ruling lord clearly being deposed and decapitated.  
Their best commander so far was Cregan Karstark who seemed the best at guessing where the Ironborn would strike next from Harland’s reports. Even he was starting to return empty-handed from his sallies.   
Bran was tired of the war but Ironborn came raided, burnt and left. Raided, burnt and left. Village after village, hundreds of holdfasts and towns were deserted where there was little enough in the first place. Then the next morning Cregan Karstark came down with hay fever. Bran was worried but allowed his foray to be granted to cautious Hargrove Woolfield. Harland later reported that Victarion Greyjoy had crushed the northern lord and his force. There was no mention of hostages or ransom. When Ser Marlon Manderly suggested that they use Robb’s manoeuvre in the Battle of the Whispering Wood to capture Victarion Greyjoy, the Northern lords settled for the usual two days of debate when an urgent raven arrived from Hother Umber of escorted Wildlings passing Umber lands. 


	13. Chapter 13

Victarion Greyjoy had for a moment ceased to be the greatest danger among the northern lords. The object of hate had been the Wildling King Mance Rayder who had brought the wildlings south. Then it had been “the Southron cripple” named Donal Noye who had betrayed the Watch for letting the wildlings south. Then when Bran declared he was in fact the one who let them pass the northern lords were stunned into silence, for a very long time.  
“Why?” Cley Cerwyn looked just as troubled as the rest of the lords.  
“We need to win this war. The Wildlings are like us. They keep the Old Gods, guest right, and they are from the North. More importantly, the dead are back. Lord Stout, Lady Mormont, if you will” Bran sat back down and allowed the two to prove the words their own family had sworn to.   
As the niece of the former Lord Commander Mormont, Alysane Mormont took precedence.  
“It is well-known among my lords the manner of man my uncle was. Jeor Mormont was no craven, talebearer or traitor. Yet he saw something that shook him enough to fear. The dead are back and the fear of them has driven the wildlings south. I have strong faith in my kin... and my King. If Prince Stark thinks bringing the wildlings south is safe then they will come.”  
Lord Stout stood and cleared his throat.  
“I know you feel anger towards these wildlings my lords but the Ironborn have to go. We have to survive winter and not when all our men are in the south and boys are in the west. I know my lords, the wildlings bring more mouths, but they bring more hands as well. We have all done what we can to survive, late plantings and hard toil. But if the Ironborn stay, we will be slaves to the same men we fought for generations to be free from. And we cannot have that.”  
“One an islander the other a Barrowton vassal. You are not going to get the brunt of the wildlings. We Clansmen and them Umbers are.”  
“If we refuse the wildlings entry now, we will fight enemies to our back and under.”  
Bran had a feeling that it would soon descend into the famous Northern squabbling in a minute. He knocked over the table and stood up.  
“The wildlings are here to stay. They are northern and so are we. Your lords chose the North over the Lannisters and you chose House Stark over House Greyjoy. If you have any misgivings then my apologies. But you swore to follow us and we the men of House Stark swore to keep you safe. This is my decision and it is final.”  
“Our lords and King are away, we cannot speak for them.” A Locke man said.  
“Then speak for yourself and your people. House Mormont will obey as always” Alysane Mormont scoffed at the Locke man.   
“House Ryswell will keep faith” Rickard Ryswell spoke.  
The lords murmured as other houses spoke up. And Bran knew he had them. He had them all. 

A rider arrived from White Harbor the next day while the lords quick as anything, brushed aside the wildlings for the Ironborn. Ser Marlon's tactic of the Whispering Wood was still being discussed the Northern way. Bran excused himself and took the green-sealed letter. The exchange had been carried out in the islands known as the Three Sisters. The girls had been dropped off at Sweet Sister along with Ice and exchanged for the Greyjoys who Lord Manderly had claimed he clumsily sent off the wrong girl as Asha Greyjoy. Bran laughed loud until he saw that the girls were reportedly Sansa and Jeyne Poole. Sansa claimed not to have seen Arya since Father was arrested.  
“Gods, no” he swore without meaning to. He did not know which was worse, that Arya was missing or that it was his duty to tell Jon. He quickly returned to his Chamber and penned a letter to Winterfell to tell Riverrun of the exchange and disappearance of Arya and to tell White Harbor to retain the girls until such a time as the roads were safe for travel. He sent a few riders to White Harbor with instructions to hold Sansa, Jeyne and Asha safely as well as inform Riverrun truthfully, of the latest developments. He returned to the Hall hoping to give word to the Lords himself when he was waylaid by a Stark man bearing word of the wildling army already south of Winterfell. They claimed to be ten thousand in number and bound for Highbrook itself. By the time Bran entered the Hall, the lords had broken up in his absence and spoke in small clusters and bunches. Bran decided to send a note of thanks to Tyrion Lannister despite the little man lying to him about Arya. The lords turned to him when he raised a hand. He was painfully aware of how much smaller than them he was feeling a little stupid, he climbed a table and looked over them.  
“Just this past hour, I have received word that the Lannisters no longer hold my sister Sansa. She was exchanged for Theon Greyjoy while his sister remains with us to answer for her crimes against Houses Stark and Glover. The sword of my ancestors, Ice is also returned to us. The Ironborn have lost their prince and princess and soon the wildlings will arrive and they will lose their army. In about two fortnights, we will depart to Rillsteade and free House Ryswell. Are you ready my lords?”  
The clamorous yells were enough to raise his heart and he strode out feeling a head taller, and a Stark man.

The Northern lords found it easier to cheer for the wildlings than smile at them. Maester Luwin had sent axes and maces ahead for the wildlings to use. For the massive host that boiled into the Ryswell lands a few weeks ago they were pitifully few. Regardless, Bran ordered that the weapons be distributed to the wildlings. For all their talk of Freefolk, the wildlings had their chieftains and champions. The Thenn lord was a tall bald man who scowled perpetually at anything and anyone till he saw Alysane Mormont. The Mormont woman scowled back anytime she was near a Thenn. To Bran and all the Northern lords, nothing mattered as much as the giants that had surfaced with the army. Even when the greatest of the giants squandered half their ale in a night it only served to endear the Northern lords. They were beastly shaggy things that held little more than the trunks of entire trees and swung. The Ironborn were going to be defeated. The lords had no doubt. Yet even the appearance of such powerful creatures did little to help the frosty feelings. The wildlings called the Northmen “gawking southerners” for their surprise at the giants and the Northern lords felt the wildlings as useless as anything for not using the giants as well as they could have. The first battle against the Ironborn came five days north of Rillsteade. The devastation was splendid to behold. The wildlings fought wildly and without restraint. The Ironborn may have fared better in their armour if they were not fleeing from the giants and mounted Northmen. The wildlings waited for them to run west towards the sea and came down on them howling and screaming with a fury that put Rickon’s worst tantrums to shame. For the first time in many nights the northern lords and wildlings drank mead and milk together under the same tent and Karstark men cheered alongside Thenn warriors when giants wrestled. There were still looks thrown across the table but at least the men no longer murmured against southerner or savage. Bran knew a single victory would hardly be enough to unite these warring factions. The next morning proved the truth of his words. As the northmen prepared to march, they were dismayed at the wildlings who wore Ironborn armour alongside them. A small brawl broke out when a drunk Karstark man-at-arms attacked a wildling. Bran had the wildling stitched and the man-at-arms whipped. Sure as winter, Cregan Karstark came scowling his way.  
“Ah. Lord Karstark I was just looking for you. Now that your fever has broken I think it time for you to take your place at the Vanguard. You have command over our forward outriders. Farewell.” Cregan Karstark stood staring at Bran’s back seething as he went off. Bran breathed steadily and walked off.

The Northern- Wildling army arrived at Rillsteade. The Ironborn army had mostly fled. The giant called Mag the mighty roared in anger and bulled forward with the tree trunk he held. He easily stepped over the moat protecting Rillsteade. One sweep cleared the gatehouse protecting the castle. Another cleared the left wall. The Ironborn ran inside after an ineffective volley. The Northern army flooded the walls and used the ladders without resistance. In a trice the gates were hoisted open and the wildlings entered followed by the giant Mag. They quickly broke through the meagre Rillsteade garrison and Mag reached out and pinched off the Ironborn flag. The wildlings charged off to the West and Bran rode after them. He easily outpaced the infantry and pulled up in front off them.   
“The Ironborn are long fled. Halt and rest.” The Thenn lord, Styr walked forward.  
“I was promised the water lord.”  
“And you will have him, but not yet.”  
This time there was no feast. Rickard Ryswell went about checking his castle. The other lords settled for a well deserved sleep. Bran went to the Godswood as was becoming his custom in every castle he visited. The Weirwood was chipped across the face. Bran thought it looked like a man in a Winter storm. 

The Ryswell army was granted the leave to remain in their castle and defend their lands once Victarion Greyjoy was taken. Harland’s spies relieved them of that plan. The Ironborn fled before the Stark army and went North to trouble Deepwood Motte and Bear Island.  
No doubt having heard of the Iron, they locked off the island and no further word was heard. Before the northern army could reach Glover lands, they received word of the victory of Mance Rayder and his army over the forces headed to Deepwood Motte.   
When they met with the five thousand Freefolk army of Mance Rayder at Deepwood Motte, Lady Glover would tolerate no slight against the man who saved her home. Bran worried over the Mormont Iron they had newly discovered and the Mormont girls. He hoped there would be no need to exchange hostages again. The wildlings had taken much pleasure cutting down the lords and highborn of the Ironborn in feats of strength. Not to be outdone, the Northmen had used their knowledge of sigils and nobility to seek out the commanders. As a peace offering and a gift Bran presented Styr with a long two-handed axe with a spiked head and base besides the new Thenn armour sent up from Winterfell to Deepwood Motte. Mikken had produced thirty pieces of thick leather armour with thick fur, high stiff leather collars, sewn steel pieces and bronze embellishments. Styr and his two sons Sigorn and Goren had spikes on their shoulders and helmets as well as engraved axes on gauntlet and breastplate. The wildlings cheered especially their own men of Thenn. The only thing that could be done to break the siege of Bear Island was to get ships to ferry their own men across. Mance Rayder suggested taking men along the Gift and past the Wall into the Bay of Seals. From there they would sail captured Ironborn vessels and ferry to Bear Island. Alysane Mormont agreed on the condition that she herself came. Styr announced that he would be the one to slay Victarion Greyjoy and the Thenn warriors hollered clamorous yells. That night Sigorn asked for Alysane Mormont's hand in marriage and she asked Bear Island's freedom as a price for her hand. House Mormont was going to have an interesting few more years.


	14. Chapter 14

It took an agonizing month for Mance Rayder to set off with nigh eight thousand men to retake Bear Island as the Thenn lord took both of his sons and Mance left a large man called Tormund Giantsbane in charge of the wildling army. Bran departed with most of the Northmen for Winterfell. Awaiting word of the fate of Bear Island. He arrived at Winterfell with little noise, Summer padding beside him. Rickon was happy to see him in the least. Bran shook hands with Jojen and patted Calon and Tomtoo on the back. The stable boy was none other than Little Walder who for once had nothing to say. Maester Luwin hugged him and sent him on his way to his chambers. On his bed rested Ice, the Valyrian Steel sword as sharp and strong as ever. The sword was browning at the hilt even if the blade itself was polished. Bran looked over it and sheathed it. He carried the sword with both hands to the Godswood and rested it against the rock his father used to sit on and knelt there. For a moment, Bran felt the tears forming again. He let them out this time. He was a boy. A boy without a Father.  
He was still crying when Osha and Calon arrived, Summer nestled protectively against Bran. Osha and Calon merely sidestepped the direwolf and put their hands on his shoulder. For a long time they three just stayed quiet till Osha shook him hard.  
“That was quite enough. You miss your Father. No doubt. I miss my husband. But them is gone. Get up. Stop weeping and go make your father proud.” Osha clenched his tunic and shoved him to his feet. Bran stumbled till Calon gave him a hand and the two of them walked to the castle where a small crowd was around the gate of the godswood. Bran dried his face with his sleeve and strode past them holding his head high. Summer whined and went off to the watering trough. Bran went to Maester Luwin’s turret where the Maester was teaching Tomtoo how to read and Bran decided to go away. Rickon was in the yard under Derik's gentle tutelage. He had left Winterfell and it had barely missed him. 

Word from the south was another great victory for Robb at the edge of Hayford lands. Even though the Lannisters had defeated Stannis, Robb had sped across the Riverlands and encroached into the Crownlands defeating a joint Lannister-Tyrell army near the brink even though they had half again his numbers. The letter claimed Robb entered an encirclement then doubled back to defeat the smaller army at his back taking time to kill Gregor Clegane and scatter his band before heading down again to defeat Randyll Tarly himself. Bran felt as proud as was possible of his brother. Till he remembered his own many defeats at the hands of the Ironborn. Regardless, the death of Gregor Clegane was a huge success. But Bran knew that it was Tywin Lannister that mattered. He hoped to send reinforcements to his brother when they broke Victarion Greyjoy. It was many days before that happened. Mance Rayder sent a curt letter saying that Victarion Greyjoy was dead despite hard losses and he was on his way to Winterfell having broken the Ironborn army in Bear Island.  
When they arrived they carried the bodies of Styr and his son Sigorn. Mance told of how both Thenn warriors after clearing the Ironborn from Bear Island, tried to give chase in the stolen Ironborn ships. Alysane Mormont was killed by an arrow that found a gap in her armour. Styr ordered the sailors to ram Iron Victory and jumped ship to avenge his good daughter to be whilst his fellow Thenns and son followed hard after. Victarion Greyjoy split Styr's head himself and stabbed Sigorn with his own dagger after the two men fiercely wrestled to the point of chucking each other’s helmets off. Mance claimed the squid lord was still struggling to stand after his victory when a volley of arrows ended his life. The body of the Ironborn lord was riddled with holes no doubt from the spikes that were on the Thenn lord's armour.  
“Spikes? Aye, I saw Sigorn smashing himself against the Greyjoy. Clever boy. Even if Victarion won and got away he would have bled to death.”  
“Where is Goren?”  
“He is Magnar now. He sailed with the fleet after dropping us off to free Flint’s finger.”  
“Just as well. Regardless I believe once he returns it will be time to settle the Freefolk once and for all.”  
“Thank you Prince Stark. My wife is pregnant you know. Perhaps we can name the boy Brandon.”  
“I would be grateful if you did not.” Mance smiled at that and walked off. Bran returned to his chambers to answer the flood of letters from his mother. Most of her earlier letters were to take care of himself and later on asking how much he remembered from his fall. Her last letter was after receiving word of Sansa's return. She asked him to be strong till her return and-. Bran stopped and read it again. And pass her warm regards to Jon Snow.  
“Oh.” He spoke out loud without meaning to. Then he laughed as hard as he could. He was still laughing when Rickon bounded in and jumped on his bed. Bran looked over at his little brother and patted him on the head.  
“Shaggy!” One word. A word and Bran's mirth turned into dread. The black direwolf padded in softly and nestled against Bran even allowing him to rub his head. Bran released a breath he didn’t know he held in and sat with Rickon on the bed. Summer stood crouching and ready to spring if called upon.  
“How have you been Rickon?” Bran asked. Sure enough Rickon started rambling on and on about the various misdeeds of the Winterfell servants from refusing to bathe Shaggy to ignoring him. 

He and the northern lords began drafting lands and titles for the wildlings. No one wanted the cannibal tribes but everyone wanted the giants. Houses Stark, Flint of Flint’s finger and Ryswell took the brunt of the wildings. Bran decided it would be best to keep them away from the Night's Watch and White Harbor. Mance Rayder agreed to marry his wife’s sister to a lord, but no one could agree who. The Umbers and Karstarks both wanted her for their lords' heirs as did the Ryswells whose heir was present to ask for her hand. The girl was quite a beauty, at least according to how Sansa always described beauties but Bran knew she was a hard woman. She would need a strong husband or he’d be ridden over. Perhaps an Umber. He would have to ask Robb. The Umbers hated wildlings. Many moons and a few Stark victories in the South later, Bran was finally able to send five thousand mixed men down to his brother and hold the feast to unite Northman and Wildling.  
The lords arrived in Winterfell's Great Hall as did the Wildling chiefs, Mance was a deserter and could not sit on the High Table but his wife and Tormund did. Bran ordered the first course to be brought in. Salted bread and cheese. Many of the lords were tense once they recognized the old tradition but Bran broke his bread, sopped it and gave part to Dalla. After that each lord was cajoled to eat of it as well as the wildlings. Bran gave orders that it reach the squires and sons outside. Ser Rodrik winked at him when Ser Marlon was nudged away by a tall wildling who sprayed stew as he spoke about not needing 'Southron gods'. The Ironborn had been eradicated by their alliance and Bran hoped to join the two quick enough to march North against one common enemy. After the wildlings brought captured 'wights' as they were called, not a single northern lord disbelieved. One was even sent down to Riverrun with the reinforcements to convince Robb of the great danger. Ser Marlon was sitting beside his new house sword Nightfall that he claimed to have duelled for. Cley Cerwyn said the Harlaw who wielded it was already staggering with an arrow in his leg. And even then it was still a hard fight. He and Bran had spared and even with though he held back, Bran had barely lifted Ice to parry a slow blow. Bran hoped Ser Rodrik heard naught of it. He shuddered at the thought of Ser Rodrik’s training practices. During the feast, Lyanna Mormont marched in wearing boiled leather jerkin and breeches. Meera Reed stood from her place beside Rickon and gave away her seat with a curt nod. Lyanna sat down and fixed Bran with a stare that he returned as coldly as he could. The wildlings hooted and Maester Luwin choked on his drink. Meera whispered something to her and she turned to face the older girl and nodded quickly. Bran looked away from his bride to be when Tormund Giantsbane stood up and banged on the table.  
“It seems to me. That the best way for us to have a good night is a good wedding!”   
“Aye!” Cley was grinning and not in a good way.   
“But no woman wants you Tormund!” Bran desperately shot back.  
“My lords. My ladies. We have feasted and wined. I thank you all for heeding the call to protect the North on behalf of His Grace. There are meats and mead for any man who so desires. To The King in the North!” Ser Rodrik bellowed. Bran was grateful for the rescue and joined in the salute.  
“The King in the North!” Even the wildlings shouted along. Deep in southern ale the first time for nigh all of them. They had cause to be glad. House Stark had seized over sixty ships from both the Ironborn lords and their prized Iron Fleet. The ships had been shared among the Houses Ryswell, Glover and Mormont. The Ironborn had come only to lose men. Even the priest named Aeron Greyjoy was taken and beheaded by Goren. The mad priest had burnt many of his ships when he saw he had no men left to crew them. The Iron Fleet limped away from a vengeful Mormont-Thenn army. Lyra Mormont was lady of Bear Island till her mother and sister returned. She had no qualms killing Ironborn men with a crossbow or bow. Tormund Giantsbane said it was her last volley that took Victarion Greyjoy's life. Bran knew the wildling chieftain had a gift for spinning wild stories while swearing by his father. But when Lyanna Mormont declared her sister did indeed order the last volley he grew anxious at a family that had such warriors. 

Meera quickly grew into a close friend of Lyanna and so did Jojen. They found a time for Lyanna and Bran to spar while Ser Rodrik was away. Unsurprisingly, Bran bested her but not with ease. The girl was a far better hand than Arya but Bran had been receiving daily lessons. She promised to best him soon. And every day they would find a way to spar together. Before long, they were matching each other. Till she strode into the yard and easily put down Tomtoo. Calon unfortunately, was still better than her and Bran. Strangely, Ser Rodrik never drove her away. He instead invited her to practice daily with the boys. Not that Bran minded; He liked the challenge. And he felt good. Despite the defeats he suffered, he was still the one who defended the North. He was the Direwolf who slew the Kraken and the North was safe with a Stark in Winterfell. 


	15. Chapter 15

The news from Robb was that he had negotiated for the safety of the Riverlands in exchange for Jamie Lannister's life after the fall of Casterly Rock. Bran knew it would not have been possible if not for the wargs and giant among the reinforcements he sent down, he merely hoped his brother would tell how he sacked Casterly Rock and its riches. Robb wrote that even with the wargs they were unable to fully sack the castle as some towers and keeps merely closeted themselves off. By the terms of the agreement, the Lannisters would forfeit all claim to the North and Riverlands and in exchange, Jamie would be safe. Robb said he was trying to get the Vale Lords to oust Lysa Arryn and declare themselves independent an idea that they were increasingly receptive to after the fall of Tywin Lannister's castle. Stannis Baratheon had returned to the Stormlands and held it with a weak grip, at least till the Lannisters decided to root him out. The War of the Five Kings was at end and House Stark held themselves as the sovereign rulers of the North and four of the Seven Kingdoms looked towards independence from the Iron Throne that harboured neither dragons nor Targaryens and according to Stannis Baratheon, Baratheons.  
That last part was true. Bran had to tell Mother about the golden haired man. According to Robb, they would return to Moat Cailin in a fortnight first touring the castles of the North with the Frey Queen he would marry in the Twins. By tomorrow if this letter was rightly dated. Winterfell was awake and already preparing to receive its lord. Bran was heavily occupied with road and granary building. The Vale had agreed to reopen their grain to White Harbor and House Manderly was deftly bringing in grain.

For the first time in three hundred years the North would have to face Winter on its own. The price of independence, Bran thought bitterly. He had to forgo a certain amount of taxes from the Houses in exchange for Grain. The wildlings had brought mostly livestock and Robb had sent no mean amount in plunder. Still if the Winter started immediately, their grain would hold them comfortably for two and a half years. Bran had tried to set trade routes to places in Essos that would be mostly unaffected by Winter. But Lord Wyman Manderly had taken a single look at the proposal and announced that it was unfeasible whilst stuffing himself with pie. The Lannisters would cut off their supply lines whilst denying any responsibility and Robb could hardly call the Banners to march in Winter. To defend the North, yes. But to march south again; never. He was so frustrated that afterwards, Lyanna knocked him to the ground whilst the maids and women of Winterfell cheered her on. The iron that her sister had discovered was strong and had become their main trade on Bear Island. The Vale had little need for iron in their peace but Braavos was a trading city and hungrily swallowed up their ore. The Mormont sisters wrote of their new keep to Lyanna who only smiled in private and confided in Meera that her sisters used to bully her for her size till she left. Then they started missing her. Bran imagined Arya being older than Sansa. He knew Sansa would have been mercilessly ridiculed for her gentle manner. At least when Mother and Robb were not around. He shook his head violently. Sansa was living the life of a princess in White Harbor till Robb returned. The only way they would be reunited with Arya was if she somehow found a way to get a ship and sail to White Harbor. Or come up through Moat Cailin. Rickon was six now and trying hard to be as useful to Bran as he could. Bran had given little thought to how much his continued monologues on being a man would affect the lad. He continually insisted that he be called a man and all too often Bran woke up to finding his table cleared and arranged. Maester Luwin agreed to begin teaching Rickon on managing a household and learning how to use numbers to trade and choose merchants to commit to. What could not be denied was Rickon's prowess with a sword. Even in the training yard he often set Bran on the back foot. Bran loved to spar with him and Lyanna and often they would form teams against each other. Meera was a proper pain with her net and trident and more often than not whatever side she chose ended up winning. Bran felt secure, even safe and it worried him that something would come and take it all away. Nothing he swore to himself would ever put Rickon or Winterfell in danger whilst he lived. _Whilst he lived_, he felt uncomfortably. 

Mance Rayder had agreed to leave the north without title and lands. Bran granted him pardon for his desertion but he was not allowed to stay in the North. He had to go to Essos and return only when permitted to by the Stark in Winterfell. Bran allowed him a ship and a small fortune to settle down. Even that set the Northern lords and heirs to grumbling. Lord Manderly had been reluctant to release even one of his smaller ships and Bran was forced to buy a trader's ship on Rayder's behalf. The Iron ore that the Mormonts held had boosted their coffers and they convinced Lord Manderly to send them pieces of ships that they built up in Bear Island. The Mormonts still felt the occasional raid on their island by Greyjoys. The Thenns and wildlings reportedly took great pleasure taking their fighting men away and allowing their fighting women they called 'Spear wives' to finish them off. Three raids later and the Ironborn stopped dropping by Flint’s finger and moved farther North. Lady Glover told him many times their foresters and hunters had come upon Ironborn hacking down trees in the Wolfswood till she begged the help of the wildlings and their warg spies. Then the wildlings always knew where to be.  
To compensate for all the wood that had been lost from the Wolfswood, Bran asked the men of the Night's Watch to open one of the many castles and allow foresters to take from the Haunted Forest that creeped on the Wall. The Lord Commander reluctantly agreed to reopen Oakenshield for the Umber and Glover men and a steady lumber trail led from the Kingsroad to Deepwood Motte.

The North grew ever closer as northmen and lords alike pulled together to ensure they survived their first independent winter. And Bran loved it all. He loved the commands and the power. A pity he would only be lord of a small holdfast far away. Still he knew a lot of it was not his own doing. A common threat had driven the wildlings south and scared both Freefolk and northerner enough to join hands. And that the Mormonts had undiscovered iron for so many years was an uncanny blessing. He knew the Crow had something to do with all his good fortune. He hoped that the Crow was merely a kind warg but he knew that few men worked so hard without their own profits in sight. Still the Crow felt angry when Bran tried to reach to him and Jojen said that the Crow would not be rejected and turned to again. Regardless, Bran held much strength and a warg was teaching him and Rickon to enter their wolves. Rickon was far better at it and the warg claimed it was because he was younger and with an open mind. Still Rickon tended to forget himself in his wolf and sometimes Shaggydog would come padding down to breakfast or training. Bran had asked the wargs if they could find his sister and they told him that it was no easy task to enter a bird or even speak to other animals. Many wargs spent their lives connecting with one or two animals. No more; Jojen Reed only said that he knew the pack would be reunited one day. But he could not say how or when. 


	16. Chapter 16

They buried Old Nan under a bright sun in the lichyard where all the faithful servants of House Stark lay. Hodor stood to one side slightly quivering and blankly looking at Old Nan's burial. Ser Rodrik gave the rites to lay her to rest while the household looked on. She slept off and peacefully passed away, the oldest woman in Winterfell and perhaps the North. Bran knelt and placed his direwolf brooch in her hands and allowed her to be lowered. Strangely, he felt no tears. It saddened him to no small measure but he felt no tears or loss. Old Nan had lived her life long and quiet, surviving even Theon’s cruel reign and Father. Maester Luwin looked particularly shaken and Rickon had cast aside his hard faced demeanour to wail and sob. Hodor cast the first dirt and Bran nodded to the servants to begin covering it up. He watched for a time then left to the Godswood. He knelt and prayed for Robb and Jon. He prayed for Mother and the Tully men he never met. He prayed for Sansa, Arya and peace for Father’s shade. He stopped praying and just spoke. He spoke of everything that troubled him and made him happy. He was still praying when Lyanna Mormont came and knelt beside him. They held hands and stared at the face of the Weirwood till Rickon joined them red-eyed and sniffing. They were the Starks in Winterfell and by all the Gods nothing would trouble the North while they lived.

Robb arrived at Moat Cailin dragging the survivors of all the men that had gone south. He would first be reunited with Sansa at the feast held at White Harbor for him and his queen to see off all the Manderly bannermen and the swords of the eastern houses like House Locke. Then they would turn around to Rillsteade and onto Deepwood Motte and the Mountain Clans releasing the bannermen at each location. A short stop at the Wall then down through Last Hearth and Karhold finally to The Dreadfort before reaching Winterfell where the last of the lords would stay witness to the Northern marriage of Robb and the Frey. The plan was Maester Luwin’s. A royal progress like the ones done by Aegon I of House Targaryen to shore up support and strength for the Northern cause. Cley Cerwyn left Winterfell to see to his home even as Larence Hornwood announced he would be marrying the red-haired daughter of a wildling champion named ‘Gerrick Kingsblood' that had promised over a thousand fighting men and women as dowry. Bran wished him good fortune and a prosperous household. The once bastard boy was going to be a lord. Bran had sent him many books on the Northern Houses and nobility. He hoped the boy would grow up to be a strong lord especially with the Boltons brooding so close and the Manderly bannermen mulling over what could have been theirs. The Glover steward had left to serve Larence at Hornwood once Lady Glover sent away her children to be fostered by her father at Oldcastle. It was one of many things Robb had to sort out once he returned to Winterfell. He sincerely wished the Vale would be convinced to join their cause. If the Vale joined the Lannisters, then they would not be able to rely on Moat Cailin to protect them and the eastern houses would need to be as unified as possible. Not by one House fighting claims from two stronger Houses. He considered the fleets being crewed on both sides of the North. An eastern fleet under House Manderly that counted thirty-two vessels and a great dromond as their lead ship. The western fleet was split among the Houses Ryswell, Glover, Mormont, Flint and the young Thenn. It was far larger numbering nigh eighty vessels including the northern ships and the captured Ironborn longships and galleys. The northern lords had men to crew but should war come their men were painfully unskilled in the rigging and steering of ships. The wildlings were little better the best of them giving what they knew from smugglers and rafts. Yet the more the wildlings were asked to work; the more they insisted they were being turned to slaves, even as the northmen ignored the threat from the North. They were not wrong there but they were not right that they were turned to slaves. More often than not the lords took their sides in disputes over their odd marriage customs and homes. A rebellion would be the death of them in Winter. Bran felt like laughing at the irony. A rebellion in the south would be a saving grace. A rebellion in the North would be a nightmare. It worried him to no small end that the Lannisters knew this. He had already received anonymous letters on how he could be a much greater lord than his brother playing in the south and Stannis Baratheon had bluntly ordered him to swear fealty and the arms of the North to his cause and the rightful King. Bran knew no Northern lord no matter how disgruntled with Robb, would suggest a Stark being a good lord. The only party who wanted a lord and not a King in the North were the Lannisters at least the only ones that would speak that way. Using spies and cravens. The letter was dropped on his bed and Bran kept it to show to Robb when he returned, The King in the North. And the Trident. Bran always forgot about his Tully sides. He thought about writing a letter to his Uncles Edmure and Brynden. There was a time he wanted to be a knight like them. Now he was just happy to be a Stark. Speaking of Starks and Tullys, Bran was conflicted on which room to put his mother and brother. Father’s room would be given to the new Lord of Winterfell but that would mean turning out Mother. Bran could not bring himself to comfort Mother by throwing her out of the place she had slept for almost twenty years. Robb would have to manage his small room. His bed according to the Maester, was large enough for two. Sansa would have her old rooms back and the Freys would stay where they were meant to be. By Robb’s request, a representative of the famed Iron Bank was coming to secure the gold from the sack of Casterly Rock. Some of it would find its way into more granaries and holdfasts at the west side of the North near White Harbor and the east coast. He often rode out more and more with a stiff escort, no less, to assign holdfasts and towns their new lords and portions. He tried to get Osha a holdfast of her own complete with a nearby mill but she refused and said she was fine in Winterfell and with little Rickon by her side. Rickon, liked the attention, no matter how hard he pretended to be grown up and Bran worried over his Mother’s reaction if she learnt he was to marry either a Wull or a Norrey. The Clansmen were glad enough to have a Stark marriage but they mumbled endlessly about how a girl would have been better or even Robb’s heir having strong mountain blood ready for Winter. Bran appeased them as best he could and promised to raise the matter with His Grace. 

A few days after Robb reached Rillsteade, word came of a wildling raid on a village. Bran took Ice and four hundred riders and set out. The cause was a wildling feud as one of the wildings attacked a village for taking their daughters back from the men who had carried them off in the night. The wargs in Bran’s escort swiftly located the marauding band and they fell upon them. The wildling who led the band was the Weeper, a man known for some eye troubles or the other. The Stark men rode into the fray with a wedge formation, lances and poleaxes ripping through the wildling furs and knocking against bits of stolen armour. It hurt Bran to have to attack the men they had worked so hard to save but they deserved this fate. He had hoped that all Westeros would learn never to attack the Northmen but it seemed the wildlings did not consider themselves as under that law. His shield interposed an axe even though the impact rattled him to his saddle. He swung around a wildling attacking a dismounted man-at-arms and pricked him in the soft of his neck. The blood sputtered out and he moved on to join a charge. A spear wielding wildling came at his side at a full tilt when Calon knocked into him with his own poleaxe from atop his horse. The charge routed the wildlings and they ran them all down. The Weeper was pulled out from cowering beneath corpses but he said nothing as Bran used Ice to judge him guilty and hang him immediately. The warg in their party gutted him as a warning to any more wildlings. Bran hoped Robb would not be getting an earful of such complaints as he visited the lords in their seats and hunted in their lands. The wildlings were mostly settling down. But all it took was for word of such attacks to spread and a lord might get it into his head that he could be lord of all the North with help from the Lannisters.

Robb Stark let his coming be known as he departed from the Dreadfort. All the tailors and seamstresses were desperately trying to sew new clothes for Roslin Frey using the few clothes Robb had 'borrowed' from his wife’s chests and forgotten at Castle Cerwyn. Naturally, kind Cley had taken leave of his father to drop the clothes at Winterfell where Roslin Frey would end her journey. The household had roared with laughter at the thin gowns with small fur seams. Hopefully she would have been loaned gowns by Mother or the Northern ladies. He wondered how much Mother and Robb had changed, and more importantly, if Rickon would still remember them. He could easily recite their names and describe them but no further. He mixed up Jon's deeds with Robb's and Bran's. He tried his best to cure him of that error but even when older, Rickon was just as wild as ever. His main flaw during sparring yet was trying to use both shield and sword to rush opponents. Bran looked forward to seeing Mother’s face when she met Rickon. It wouldn’t be long.


	17. Chapter 17

Over two thousand men lined up to receive the King in the North and his ladies. Bran wore all his best clothes and blades. The King rode beside his Queen and squeezed her hand as they neared. Mother was right behind him in between Sansa and the wisp that was Jeyne Poole. Looking wilder as ever. Until Bran’s eyes fell on Jeyne and he realized who he was looking at. Arya Stark of Winterfell. Rickon’s eyes lit up but a stern look shot his way kept him in his saddle. As the King spurred his steed closer, Bran dismounted and knelt before his liege. Robb got down from the horse and Bran offered up Ice in both hands to his lord  
“My King, my lord. As you have charged me with the stewardship of Winterfell and wardship of the North; I have done. I ask you to take your place as the Stark in Winterfell, now and always.” Bran recited the words stiffly and hoped Robb wouldn’t laugh. Robb gingerly took Ice with one hand and hefted it with both. He looked the sword over and tensed himself.  
“As you were charged, so have you done. Stand Brandon of the House Stark, and know your oath fulfilled.” Bran was still trying to remember what oaths he had sworn when Robb left him to mount his horse while Rickon struggled with his. Bran gave his brother a hand before mounting his own and leading the procession to the Great Hall. Upon dismounting, Robb followed after and helped Roslin Frey as well. She was prettier than most Freys Bran had met and comfortable with Robb. They strutted past Bran into the empty Great Hall were dishes lay attended by only a few guards. As Arya and Mother entered the great doors swung shut on all the handmaids and guards. Robb wheeled around in shock, then a smile split his face as Jon and Uncle Benjen quickly stepped out from the shadows. Uncle Benjen swept Mother in an embrace and Jon Snow caught Arya as she tripped on her dress in her haste to get to him. Robb smiled and nodded at Jon but the gesture went unnoticed as Jon closed his eyes tighter while holding Arya. Uncle Benjen released Mother and laughed as Sansa and Robb engulfed him in a hug. The whole family save Roslin and Jon twisted at the sound of the voice that sounded so much like Father’s. Mother breathed to hold herself till Rickon bounded at her and buried his face in her skirts. Bran joined in even as Mother’s hot tears fell on his cloak. Robb swept the whole family into an embrace while Jon struggled to bring Arya closer.

They had to open the doors for the guests to enter but they were all much to polite to speak of all the bawling and weeping they must have heard. Their eyes however, held no such courtesies. The feast began in full and Bran noticed that Queen Roslin was never a few words from his brother. He was seated on his brother's left and was painfully reminded of how he always sat at Robb’s right before they rode off south. Robb dropped a few comments to Bran and spent half the meal whispering intently and feeding his wife from his own platter. The Reeds had no place on the high table crowded as it was with Starks and Freys. After the meal Robb and Roslin led the procession to the Godswood and while one of Roslin Frey's many brothers gave her away, Uncle Benjen himself was there to take Father’s place for Robb. The two were joined and while she glowingly went into the Great Keep with Robb, Lyanna Mormont slid up to him silently and near growled out.  
“That Southron is going to change Winterfell, no doubt at all.”  
“There are enough Starks in Winterfell to keep it Northern. She will not go far.” Lyanna raised an eye and strode off to her chambers. Bran watched her go and a grin split his face as he imagined Arya, Lyanna and Meera in the yard.   
“Brandon!” His mother was behind him and she looked mortified. Bran realised he was smiling at Lyanna's retreating form.  
The next morning, men were at the Sept with axes and hammers. They broke down the outer frame and Bran ran closer. One of the Freys was watching the men work and his face fell on seeing Bran.  
“Seven blessings to you Prince.”  
“Thank you, Ser?”  
“Ser Benfrey Frey, brother to the Queen.”  
“Prince Brandon Stark, brother to the King. That’s my mother’s Sept your men are at.”  
“Quite so. You see, we have come up with a rather large household and such a small Sept could not possibly be sufficient.”  
“Ah. And you were permitted by whom?”  
“The Queen.” He replied without missing a beat.  
“Unfortunately, that Sept is the property and province of the Lady Consort of Winterfell. My mother. You need permission from her. Not Lady Frey”  
“I had understood in most castles, the Steward had the authority to raise and tear down structures for the Lord's benefit.” He raised an eye and Bran kept silent. Steward?   
“My apologies then. Carry on.” He nodded and turned. Ser Frey was not finished.  
“Carry on? We never had to stop!” Bran ignored him and went straight to the King's chambers. The guards were in the corridor rather than at the door and one in Frey livery hesitated to speak on seeing Bran. Bran ignored him and strode to the room. He was a few feet away when he heard the laughter and shouts from inside. Bran stopped and suddenly he was in a different place watching a golden-haired pair groan and roll. Then he was falling and he hit the ground. A guard bolted in and stared at him on the floor. Bran rose slowly and shook his head.  
“Who’s there?” His brother’s muffled voice came through the door.  
“Bran. But I’ll come later your Grace.” Bran tried to steady his voice and stumbled past the guard to his room. The door was open and when Bran stepped in a servant was packing all his texts and papers. Maester Luwin was sorting out papers on Bran’s bed.  
“Maester?” The Maester looked up and smiled.  
“Bran. Pardons for the intrusion.”  
“No matter. Where are you taking my notes? Do you need anything from me?” The aged Maester shook his head.   
“The new steward has requested all papers and records for study and review to aid him in his duties. I apologise Bran, but I asked your brother and he agreed. Leastways you can rest now. No more lords drawling grain prices and taxes at you, Aye?” The Maester sounded very unnatural trying to speak like a Northman and Bran was starting to see the truth of Lyanna’s words.  
“But some of those are mine.” Did he have to give Ser Frey all his things to go through?  
“I know Bran, I have only taken those papers which were certainly pertaining to the welfare of the North and Winterfell. I will, of course, let you decide which papers to keep beyond that.”  
Bran nodded and left the Maester there. Arya was not in her room and he went down to the kennels to see the Direwolves. Despite all hope all five of the direwolves were there together. Bran halted and counted again. Then he saw Nymeria, Arya’s wolf among the rest. He rushed in and hugged the direwolf as tightly as he could. The direwolf was uncomfortable and Grey Wind was slightly raised and watching intently. He hugged Grey Wind and Ghost as well, the direwolves all reunited. Not all, he remembered. Lady was gone, she rested in the lichyard, a stone's throw from Old Nan. The kennel master dropped a half skinned boar and he and the stable boys slowly backed away from the wolves. Nymeria padded forward and Grey Wind gave a low growl. Nymeria hung back as Grey Wind bit into the boar; Ghost bit in and Grey Wind snapped at him before returning to the meal. His dominance asserted, Grey Wind lay down and tore a huge leg of and sat in the corner. Ghost and Nymeria dove in savagely ripping into the carcass even as Summer and Shaggydog watched silently.   
Bran smiled and walked towards the training yard. Sure as Winter, Arya was there and down on her back while Meera circled her. Bran walked in and stood beside Lyanna while Arya struggled to stay out of Meera's reach while darting in and out at her oddly balancing on her heels. Meera’s face puffed with the exhaustion of trying to get Arya on her back and stay out of reach. After a long dance with Arya Meera tried to spin around Arya, but Arya jumped at her and they both went down. Arya was laughing hard and Meera smiled in good spirits.  
“Oh Arya, However are we to find a good husband for you?” Bran shook his head in mock despair and clutched his hands to his chest.  
“Seven save us child. You should be stitching with your Needle.” Jon completed behind him. Arya ran and ripped out a short sword or dirk and Jon Snow caught his breath.  
“How did you keep it?” Arya was beaming and Bran had the feeling that it was a gift.  
“Later. I promise.” Lyanna clapped her hands once.  
“To the tables now?”  
“Aye.” Jon offered his hand to Meera as Jojen walked in and stared at Jon. Meera smiled at her brother and took Jon's hand.  
Upon reaching the tables, Mother was waiting impatiently along with five Freys. Bran gave his apologies and they all settled down. Benfrey Frey looked around and spoke.  
“It grieves me to say that King and Queen Stark will not be joining us for the meal. They have elected to remain in their chambers.” Bran could hardly believe his ears. He waited for Robb to emerge from his chambers yet only servants went in and out. By the Mid-day meal, he was first to the table and waited for Robb. His mother came down in the company of the girls and Rickon who babbled away like a young child. Some Freys and the Walders came in and Ser Benfrey sat down at the head of the table to Mother’s left hand. He motioned for the servers to come forward and tucked into one of Gage’s pies. Bran seethed silently as he took of the capon for his brothers. He reached for the stewed pease and woke Rickon’s wrath. Rickon stood in his seat and spanked Ser Benfrey's hand hard with his spoon.  
“No! The pease belong to me.” Ser Benfrey smiled down at him and asked gently.  
“Do you intend to finish them all yourself?”   
“Try finishing what is on your plate before taking another course. As Steward, I had understood that you should be aware of the dire state of food and supplies in the castle. You must remember Frey, Winter is Coming.” Bran looked at the Frey as hard as he could after finishing. The Frey nodded amiably, left off the pease and excused himself from the table.


	18. Chapter 18

Bran was getting ready to spar against Arya to Jon and Meera's cheers. They were preparing to meet when Maester Luwin burst in and sputtered. All of them crowded the Maester and Jon patted the older man's back. Maester Luwin burst out a breathless laugh.  
“No need for the care Jon.” He stopped and looked at Bran.  
“Bran, Ser Benfrey Frey is sending the grain south to the Twins as gifts.” Bran shivered with fear. That grain was the hard toil of the Northmen and Freefolk. They would be unbelievably incensed at hearing their grain was being shipped off for naught.   
Bran rushed to the granary with all the sparring party close on his tail. A Frey man-at-arms lowered his spear to block them. Jon handily grabbed the spear in one hand and flung both weapon and wielder away to the floor. They entered the granary and most of the Winterfell servants stopped at the sight of him. Ser Benfrey’s smiling amiable face was gone and he marched up to Bran.  
“I have done my very best to be friendly and helpful to you and House Stark but you block me at every turn on childish suspicion.” He took Bran by the arm and six blades pointed at his form. Jon went as far as to stick the Valyrian longsword in an exposed joint.  
“Do not cause Longclaw to accidentally prick your arteries, good Ser.” Ser Benfrey backed away slowly and raised his voice.  
“Continue the work. No matter here.”  
“No man of you is to move a single speck of wheat or barley. That food belongs to the North and our families.” The Northern servants looked at each other and Ser Benfrey huffed in the direction of the Great Keep. Ser Rodrik held him from the back and spoke in a low voice and motioned for Bran to come over. Meera, Jon, Arya, Lyanna, Tomtoo and Calon all sheathed their weapons and followed the knights to the stables.  
Robb was there and with Roslin. He had set her on his own horse and was strapping a cloak on when he caught sight of Bran and cursed to himself. A stable boy stepped in and asked which horse to get Robb. "None. Thank you. My sweet wife will have to make way.” So saying he hopped on behind his wife to her squeal of laughter. They shifted and Ser Benfrey marched up to Robb and begun blabbing his filth into his brother's ears. Robb shook his head.

“We need that grain Ser Benfrey. Without it, we perish.” Roslin twisted in the saddle and spoke quickly. She rested her head against his chest and Robb laughed.  
“Very well then, Ser Benfrey. Your Queen is quite persuasive. But only this once, Ser” Ser Frey nodded and went off. Jon dragged Bran away and Arya went to the sheep cot. Jon hauled Bran all the way to the Great Keep and off to the girls' sewing room. Mother and Sansa were there and both looked up happily at him. Jon stepped forward.  
“Lady Stark, Lady Sansa. My apologies for the intrusion. I believe Bran has somewhat to say to you.” He shoved Bran forward and lowered to face him.  
“I can only leave the Wall so many times before the men call me a deserter. Lord Commander Noye has made it clear that I have little time and lesser freedom. If you want me to find Winterfell memorable in the least, I suggest you get Robb's head out of his wife’s-“  
Mother clapped her hands once and looked at Jon.  
“His wife’s arms.” Jon finished and Sansa giggled. He smiled at her and she turned her eyes away demurely.  
“My ladies.” Jon's cheeks were red and walked off.  
“She is his queen Bran.”   
“I said nothing of Roslin Frey”  
“My eyes still see Bran. In any case, Robb did not have the chance to choose his own wife, did he?’ Mother tilted her head at him. Why she brought up Lyanna Mormont was beyond him. A bit.  
“The woman is a Frey!” Bran protested. Sansa smiled at him  
“Bran, while in King's Landing I saw what happened to a kingdom where the princes hated the Queen. It did them no good” Bran gasped in mock horror.  
“Is that why she brought three brothers?” His mother was absolutely scandalised.   
“A jape. But Robb is ignoring us all. He has not had a single meal since he returned. Could you not speak to him? Please mother. I tried my best to get grain and food for the North and the Freys are giving it away. I asked Robb to stop it but he listens only to his wife. Is there nothing you can do?”  
“Jamie Lannister is in the bowels of Winterfell. His presence stains this castle enough. I will not have you sully it more by mentioning his actions and abominations. Now Sansa and I are very busy. Discussing with our loved ones rather than witch-hunting. Off with you then.”   
Bran stomped out, in the knowledge he looked like Rickon. He could hear their laughter rising after him.   
The hunting party did not return that day or the next. They came back with Robb and Roslin on different horses for once and Bran breathed a sigh of relief. Till Robb swooped down and carried his wife off. Straight to their chambers. Ser Benfrey stepped near them to speak and Robb nodded and waved him off as best he could without letting him speak. Arya followed close behind with a familiar smile on her face. She winked at Sansa and Jeyne. Whatever it meant, they looked both horrified and excited. They trailed after Robb as well. Robb was red-faced and puffing when he reached his chambers and he dumped his wife on the bed.  
Bran stepped into the room and steadied himself in Robb’s way. Robb looked at him and easily nudged him out the door and slammed it shut.  
“We will speak at dinner. Be ready.” Bran would be. The only way to convince Robb would be facts and Bran would be ready.

By dinner, the table was well arranged and the seats marked. Bran sat at his Mother’s left hand at the foot of the table. Near the whole family sat in between him and Robb and Ser Benfrey sat at Robb’s right hand. Robb’s queen was at his left and the youngest of her Freys that men called Robb’s squire was next to her. Even Little Walder was closer to Robb who japed with them and ate little. The height of his brother’s impudence was to reach over and ruffle his squire's hair. Bran could take no more. He got up and strode out. Ser Benfrey’s elder brother laughed and Little Walder sniggered. Lyanna Mormont stood and stared the two Freys into silence and walked out as well. He had not reached the door when Mother’s commanding voice rang out.  
“Brandon, Lyanna; Return to your seats.” Bran groaned and turned about.. Lyanna observed no such courtesies and strode out. Bran ate the rest of the meal in silence while Little Walder regaled Robb with stories. The servants cleared the table and shot sympathetic looks Bran's way. Before they could leave Ser Benfrey spoke up.  
“You should apologize to your lady mother. And your friend as well. I could have her sent away for that. Little wonder she is so uncouth, girls should not be allowed to use weapons. There are knights for that. Most civil lords know that.” Jon snatched Arya's hand and forced it below the table. Robb excused himself and moved away rather sheepishly and Bran wondered when Robb Stark died in the south. 


	19. Chapter 19

Jon had tried to speak with Robb over and over up to the point where he huffed and dropped a summation of all the things he wanted to say. He kissed Arya, Sansa and Meera goodbye and left with Uncle Benjen. Their uncle had shaken his head at Robb when Robb summoned him to his chambers and said the King could clamber down from his bed if it was of import. Maester Luwin was with the household as they carted what few supplies the Freys had released. No more than two horses, a wagon of grain and a paltry purse of silver. Bran had gasped on seeing the small resources and Ser Rodrik swore in anger when Maester Luwin said the Freys intended to cut off the gifts to the Night's Watch. Ser Rodrik openly called the Frey marriage an error and their appointments a horror. Ser Perwyn had threatened Ser Rodrik that more of that would see Winterfell getting a new Master-at-arms. One who did not cower and allow girls to take a man's place. The three of them held Winterfell for Robb when he went south and now they were all being threatened. They were almost at Maester Luwin’s turret when a raven burst forth Northwards. Maester Luwin looked shocked and Bran raced ahead. The door was open, but no one was inside. Maester Luwin said he would count the birds and see where the raven went.   
“What happened to the boy? He was well enough before he left south!” Ser Rodrik set about grouching as soon as they sat down.  
“Perhaps he seeks to please his wife’s family for some slight or other.” Maester Luwin suggested.  
“Unless he killed her father the lad goes too far. I spoke to Lady Stark and she said Robb was strong and firm enough with his lords. You told me yourself of the affair with the Greatjon, Luwin. Mors Umber's face anytime he neared the wolves was enough proof of that!” Ser Rodrik huffed as he spoke. Whether or not Ser Rodrik liked the Freys was answered. Maester Luwin on the other side, was still unsure.  
“The Freys are from a large and unloving House. Perhaps they are used to fighting for every scrap and bite. We need only temper them. After all, they are merely looking out for each other’s welfare and comfort.” Ser Rodrik was squinting at the Maester while he spoke.  
“Luwin? What did they tell you? Do not deny it. Why are you so long suffering?”  
“Yesterday, Queen Roslin said that well, old as I was I should have another Maester assisting me. She suggested her brother. Maester Willamen.” Maester Luwin quivered as he spoke.  
“And did you tell Robb?” Bran asked.  
“His Grace was there in the chambers.” Ser Rodrik shot up from his seat.   
“Bran, training yard. And call the girls and your brother. I have heard enough of Freys for a lifetime.”  
They trained for over an hour and a half. Ser Rodrik was displeased with the slightest error and Rickon soon burst away weeping. Olyvar Frey sauntered into the yard, Robb’s hand around him. The two chatted away. _Like brothers_, Bran turned his eyes away till Olyvar Frey ripped out a tourney sword and shield and challenged Bran. Bran turned to face the older boy and Robb hung back uncertainly. Ser Rodrik called and they went at each other.   
Olyvar Frey was better in every way possible. He knocked Bran down twice and turned away. Bran realised he had not yielded and bull-rushed the Frey. Olyvar Frey swung at the last second but Bran interposed his sword and used the shield to knock him flat on his face. Bran ripped out the dagger in his belt. He pressed the blade to Olyvar's neck. But before he could call for a yield Robb’s gauntlet smashed into his face and he fell backwards. He tasted blood and a piece of tooth fell out. Robb looked at his own hand and caught his breath at the sight of the gauntlet. Bran’s eyes rolled in his head and he fainted.

He woke up beneath Mother’s watchful eyes. Sansa poured him water from a skin and Bran noticed he was in Father’s bed.   
“Where? Robb.”   
“Easy my dear. Robb can not trouble you now. He has enough worries of his own.”  
“Worries?”  
“Someone sent out word to that the Freys were sending off your grain and meant to withhold tax to the Night's Watch. Lord Medger Cerwyn is here from the south and Lord Manderly is blustering threats and secession. Was it you?”  
“No. It was Lyanna. She knows the ravens. Please keep her here.” Bran whispered to them  
Robb walked in the door.  
“Say it again. Who did it?” He used the voice of Robb the Lord. Bran looked straight at him.   
“Wolves never betray the pack.”   
“Then give me-“  
“Get out!” Mother hissed.  
“Get out and go rest in another whore's arms. Or your queen's. Your father would have been disappointed at you. Go!”  
Robb went red with shock and walked away. Whore? There was an interesting story there. He just had to weasel it out the right pair of ears. 

He persuaded Lyanna Mormont to send off another letter to her sister, Dacey and this time he was the one who asked Maester Luwin to send the bird. Maester Luwin was considerably hesitant and refused to send it till he read it himself. When he did he tucked it in a raven and pulled a bell-rope before releasing the bird. The only thing that Bran gathered from the Maester was that Lyanna’s raven had caused a great deal of trouble; with House Umber clearly stating that no further taxes would be sent until Benfrey Frey was no longer steward. Lord Manderly as ever, outdid them all by declaring he intended to follow a King who would not try to dictate how he could spend his own coin and starve his household for greedy fools in the south. Lords Hornwood and Cerwyn came to ask why Bran could not remain as Steward. Lord Hornwood claimed that since Benfrey Frey became steward not once had there been an inquiry about the granaries or his lands. Even the Wull asked what business the Freys had in Northern lands when the dead were coming. Robb ordered Maester Luwin to appease the Northern lords as best he could and returned to his chambers. Maester Luwin agreed to try his best and asked for Leobald Tallhart to be Steward of Winterfell in Ser Frey's stead. Lord Cerwyn conceded the once castellan would be a right sight better than a Frey and a few days later a smug Leobald Tallhart rode in and informed the deposed Frey of his new position. Tallhart winked at Bran and Bran decided that he liked Leobald Tallhart after all.

As concession to the Freys, Robb declared that Bran and Lyanna’s betrothal would be broken off and Bran would be sent off to foster at the Dreadfort. Bran shivered all over. Not only had he killed Roose Bolton's son, the man was married to a Frey. Mother was horrified and screamed at Robb but he would not be moved. With the Freys behind him he stood solidly. A fortnight was all the time he had to pack and he would be going with Ser Rodrik. Ser Perwyn would be the new Master-at-arms. Dacey Mormont’s letter arrived two nights before his departure and all House Stark including Ser Rodrik, Lyanna and the Reeds crowded into the Maester’s turret; As Maester Luwin read the heart of the matter.

_“Just after we took the Crag, the family inside tried to seduce Robb Stark. The morning the letter from Brandon Stark arrived, Robb had been hearing rumours of the Ironborn sacking the north. Then he was resting from a festered wound_ _ when Jeyne Westerling made to sleep_ _ with him. Somehow or the other, young Olyvar Frey burst in on hearing them and Robb realized what he was doing. You must not blame him, Lya. The Westerlings had slipped a sort of poison to cloud his senses and heat him in all the wrong ways. Robb Stark was wroth. With the Westerlings and with himself. He asked me never to be in a room with him and ordered the Smalljon to put the castle and the family to the torch. Yet when it was done he broke down that he wiped out a house for his own selfish weakness. He never let Olyvar out of his sight after that. He swore a thousand oaths to House Frey and refused to be touched by women during the bedding at the Twins. His mind was strong enough but it broke him. That he was as weak as his father to make a bastard. That he was honourless._

They were all silent when Maester Luwin finished. Ser Rodrik stood and stared at through the window in the turret and the Reeds left in Arya’s company. Bran could not believe he had been so unfair to Benfrey, Olyvar and Roslin. And most of all to Robb. He stumbled to his chambers and pushed the door behind him. He took off his boots and buried his head in the bed.  
_Death_.  
Bran knew the Crow's voice and he shot up from his bed. His door was open and a candle moved in the corridor to Robb’s room. Bran grabbed his sword and slipped on an engraved breastplate. He moved as quietly as he could to Robb’s room. Three stark men were bent at the lock. Bran stepped forward and one of them chuckled.  
“Seven hells. This one is good.” Seven hells? Seven? Northmen didn’t believe in the Seven. He realized why his own door was open and begged Summer to howl. He tried to get to Shaggydog as well. And all the wolves in Winterfell howled. Rickon’s door burst open and Shaggydog stalked out. Summer growled loudly and the three intruders turned to see Bran blocking them as the wolves approached. Grey Wind blurred past and stopped when the shortest of the men stepped forward. In the light of the candle Bran could see the clear face of Olyvar Frey and Grey Wind sniffed the boy's hand and licked him. Guards came bounding round the corner swords drawn led by no less than Ser Perwyn. Olyvar stepped forward.  
“We just came to see to His Grace's safety when he called the wolves on us.” Ser Perwyn rounded on Bran and threatened to put down the wolves if they ever attacked his family. He posted a guard by Robb’s door and ordered Olyvar and his friends away.   
Bran was as embarrassed as possible but even more disappointed that through it all, his brother never once came out though he must have heard. He must have heard. He tried to sleep again.  
_Death_  
He woke up as a dark crow loomed over him with only one eye shining. A thick hand shot out of the mist and choked Bran. Bran coughed and tried to bat the hands away but it was as choking as the smell that oozed from the crow.   
The smell of Salt.


	20. Epilogue

Robb heard his brother’s choked cry and sprung from bed. Roslin with the babe in her womb were fast asleep. No doubt after the embarrassment of her own brother sneaking on them at their play. He snuck out of the room and into the hallway where the guard rattled Bran's door. He snatched the man's sword and scraped the bar open through a gap Jon had once showed him. As he entered a he felt a heaviness disappear and Bran relaxed in bed. He immediately crossed to check his brother. 

Convinced, he stepped out and bumped into his mother. He hesitated. He had so much to apologize for. But he would not raise his son with mother and uncle at each other's throats.  
“Where is Bran?” her voice trembled.  
“There is nothing to fear. Bran is resting. He had a fright-“  
“Do not lie to me Robb.”  
“Mother-“  
“Please Robb, where is he?”  
“I am so sorry. You must be strong.” She grasped her chest and fell down in heap. Robb called for the Maester. _Not now_. He could not lose two Starks in a night.  
“Not now.” He pleaded.

_Not ever. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a GRRM fanfic. What did you expect?  
A happy ending?  
Áhd Mór


End file.
